Agelessbonding

One rule to Life - Live it.

2011-03-02T12:09:00.008+07:00

As usual it was the maid who brought me the neighborhood news.
'Amma, a fifteen year girl jumped off the 7th floor in that apartment complex at the end of our road. She died yesterday."
It took a while for the news to sink in my mind.
'What could possibly be so difficult in the life of a fifteen year old living in a posh apartment complex? Surely it must have been an accident. '
I checked the day's newspaper and there it was "15 year old ends life over exam stress.'
Giving up life over a mere board exam?
I have heard that suicide rate among youngsters peaks around the time of exams and examination results. But it didn't seem real even then.
This was probably a girl who I had seen on my street walking or cycling back from school or waiting for their school bus. Some of them walk their dogs and stop to talk to my Munni and Zoozoo. They all look so lovely . There are times I envy their life - so much to look forward to with the licence of youth to make mistakes and learn, so many opportunities to seize and avenues to explore. A whole life ahead of them.
And one of them actually did this? it is too bizarre to believe.

Initially I blamed the parents. It is always easy to blame people you do not know. May be it was too much parental pressure - all these tiger parents and helicopter parents trying to compensate for their lack of achievements through their children. It is almost like they brought these children into the world as extra limbs to achieve their unfulfilled ambitions. And then the shock. I knew the mother. I have seen her walking their dog and would always stop at my gate to exchange pleasantries and some small talk. A very nice, level headed person who is not the type to burden her kids with her unrealistic expectations.

So where did the stress come from? School? peers? self-inflicted?
Do schools have programs to help children face their board exams without tension- motivational lectures, meditation or even psychological counseling.? Apparently many of them do.

I was talking to a school teacher this morning and she said that ironically it is not the kids who fail that go to these drastic measures but bright kids who fear that they will not make it to the top ranks. She spoke about one of her ex-students who had appeared for the medical entrance exam and was disappointed with her performance. She asked her parents if they would pay capitation fees and get her admission. The mother said that if she didn't get through this year she could always prepare well and get in next year but they could not afford to pay capitation. The girl took her life by hanging and when the results came out she had actually made to the list. And the mother is still blaming herself for her daughter's decision - 'I drove her to her death' she cries.

I do not know the facts about this particular kid from my locality - it could have been a combination of fear, anxiety and depression. But I cannot bear to see the face of her parents anymore - a vacant uncomprehending look as though they are aliens struggling in a strange planet they don't understand. Are they asking themselves why they deserved this or where they went wrong?
This is the fate of parents worldwide. They intend to give their very best to their kids but are never sure what they did is enough or right.

Don't these kids appreciate how much their parents go through to keep them healthy, safe and comfortable? Or do they just think these are just the basics of the job description of parents? Today's children may be much smarter than the earlier generation but they seem a lot more focused on themselves than anyone else. This despite the fact that most families have just one or two kids and hence they get a lot of attention from the adults on both sides of the family. Parents are willing to spend a lot more on their dresses,gifts, birthdays and toys. Has all this attention made them more needy?
I don't remember my parents or those of my friends fussing excessively over us. we were scolded when we misbehaved. They said things like "it would have been better to have nurtured a tree than a useless child like you". When we did not perform well in subjects, our teacher said 'you are only fit to herd buffaloes.' We felt bad about these things but we also knew that they cared for us and said such things only to make us do better. And we were not even as smart and perceptive as today's kids. We just acknowledged the right of our parents and teachers to be cross with us when we did not perform to our potential. We appreciated all the things they did for us the rest of the time and realised that someone who cared for you so much had the right to be upset with you. We never doubted that they cared about us despite the fact that parents those days never expressed how much they loved us.

Today there is a lot more of display and expression of love and lavishing of attention and yet, children feel unloved and unworthy.
An article that appeared in India Today in April 2008 on Teen Suicides has the following figures which are scary:

Every 90 minutes a teenager tries to commit suicide in India. Many of these attempts are half-hearted cries for attention, help and love. But every six hours, one succeeds.
More adolescents die of suicide than AIDS, cancer, heart disease, obesity, birth defects and lung disease. In 2006-07 5,857 students took their own life, which works out to a stunning 16 suicides a day, says the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB).
While the global teen suicide rate is 14.5 per 100,000, a 2004 study by the Christian Medical College (CMC), Vellore, reported 148 for girls and 58 for boys in India.
If globally, suicide is the fourth leading cause of teen deaths, in India it is at number one in some pockets and is the third largest killer all across. Over 150 students ended their lives across the country last month.

Why is there such a high level of depression among young people?
The same article has this answer:

It’s a problem of plenty, say psychologists.
Recent studies show that children who have been given too much too soon grow up to be adults who have difficulty coping with life’s disappointments.
“They have a distorted sense of entitlement that gets in the way of success both in the workplace and in relationships,” says Dr G. Gururaj, head, department of epidemiology at the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMHANS) in Bangalore.
“They often grow up to be selfcentred and self-absorbed, and those are mental-health risks.” India’s economic success story has resulted in escalating aspirations.
“Young people feel they can achieve anything and want instant gratification. When they don’t get it, they become impatient and frustrated,” holds Gururaj. A suicide survey which he conducted in 2004 found that 57 per cent of youth suicides were sudden acts of frustration.

Perhaps scrapping of board exams for class X and the new grading system in place of marks will ease the pressure on these children to some extent.
Parents must begin by not taking these board exams too seriously. I have known so many families that go into a year of austerity when one of their children is in the board exam class. No cable, reduced television viewing, less outings, restricted visiting hours, stop all extra curricular activities blah blah. Come on, it is just a board exam. Do not send the wrong signals to your children.
OK I hear you: There is indeed a lot of competition for the few good institutions and opportunities reduce as you go down the grade pyramid. But you cannot make your child feel less if he/she is not the brightest academically. They must be encouraged to give their best but must not be punished for not being the brightest. Today there are many opportunities for people with a basic degree to enroll for specific trainings and qualify for jobs. We need to give them the encouragement and soft skills to feel confident.
The important thing is to help children withstand these pressures. And to make them understand that their life is far more precious than anything else.
Lack of alternatives or choices is perhaps a major reason for people to despair and take such drastic measures. They feel they have failed and see no other door open.It would probably help if they can be given choices in terms of what they can do. Those interested in sports and arts can be encouraged to develop their talents in these areas. Actually it is such people who end up in professions that give them satisfaction and hence lead a happy life.

It is easy to analyze, pontificate and prescribe. Every parent means to do their best by their children and yet such things happen year after year.
Finally it all boils down to making our children stronger to face the pressures of life. How? What is it that our parents and grand parents were able to do that we seem to have missed?

For the attention of traveling passengers....

2011-02-07T17:54:00.012+07:00

Mu aunt's husband was an extremely cautious man. While leaving the house he would lock the house and practically hang from it to check that it is properly locked. Same with the boxes during train journeys. He would lock them, pull the lock three times and hang the key on a thick thread around his neck and then chain the boxes to the hooks provided in the trains. We used to find his ways hilarious and also bordering on the paranoid. But I wish I had learned some lessons watching him rather than just imitating him behind his back and having a good time at his expense.
Last friday I had to travel to Coimbatore for a function and since it was a short trip I had packed a small box and securely placed it under the lower berth. I had been allotted the upper berth on the aisle side of the coach. The passenger in the lower berth had gotten off at an earlier station and walked away with my box.
At my station, I picked up the only box under the lower berth. At this stage I did not realise that my box was gone. I must admit here that although the box felt strange I did not double check it. Despite all the warnings we are given some of us do not really believe that some things could happen. Bad mistake!
Lesson #1:Precautions are advised for a reason. Such things happen ( not just to others. They can happen to you. Yes, you, yourself.)

Anyway all this gyan is from hindsight. At 7 o clock that morning I sleepily got out of the station with a stranger's suitcase in my hand and was not aware of it.
As soon as I reached my destination, reality dawned and we called the Station Master immediately. He listened to the facts and promised to call us if anyone came to him with my box.

I had already caused enough stir in the house just as the function was about to start and so I decided to play it down and was hoping to trace the passenger's details over phone.
Lesson #2: Phone calls do not help under such circumstances. Immediately lodge the box and a written complaint with the Station Master. Otherwise it will not be acted upon.
The best part is that when we called him the SM did not advise us about the correct procedure to follow. I am sure his shift was due to end and he was happy to avoid the unnecessary paperwork..
Irctc helpline was more helpful but they said they could help us trace the details of the passenger if we could furnish her pnr number or passenger name. The station master would not pick up the call which meant we had to make a trip to the station personally which had to wait till the function was over.
What is impossible for ordinary mortals like us is possible for a select few in this country. Help came from an unexpected quarter - My uncle's neighbor, a retired chief engineer of railways just dialed a few numbers and was able to get the complete details of the erring passenger in matter of ninety minutes.

Now that I had the lady's number and I thought I just needed to call her and that she would apologize, come over and exchange the boxes. You think so too? Nuh huh, such behavior is passe. Now things happen differently. (what? you didnt get the memo either?)

I dialed her number and a man spoke - her husband- and this is how the conversation went:
I: hello, I believe you have my box. do you know the trouble you have put me through because of your mistake?
(All my clothes, jewelry and cosmetics were in the box)
He: What mistake are you talking about madam? We reached home, found that the box was not ours and immediately came to Tirupur station? what more can we do?
I: what use is it if you are in Tirupur station? Did you contact Coimbatore station?
He: We have done what we could. Ok speak to the railway policeman Mr.Ramesh.
The railway Policeman came on the line and asked me to verify the contents of my box. Then he said, 'Ok madam, it is your box. Please come over to Tirupur and collect it. And make sure you bring their box intact."
I was dumbstruck. Now I have to go to Tirupur and collect it? and also take their box and hand it over?
I asked him why they could not come and hand it over to me in Coimbatore since it was they who started it all.
He said that the lady is old (60 years) and so it would be difficult for her to travel. (Why? she surely travelled from bangalore to Tirupur?)
I was shocked but checked with the people around and they said a taxi trip to Tirupur and back would take me about 4 hours and 1200- 1500 rupees.
I tried to reason with them saying I was not familiar with the town and it was my only day in Coimbatore as I had a return flight to catch the next day.
No, they will not come.
Ok would they at least share the taxi fare?
The lady said: 'oh you might want to hire a plane. we cannot bear your costs. We will leave your box here at Tirupur station. If you want to, you can leave our box in Coimbatore. we will pick it up later."
And then, they. switched off. their. phone.
(yes, such people exist. And they walk amongst us, so beware!)

They lived near Coimbatore. They could come and take their box any day they wanted.
Their box had 5 tee shirts and 2 old saris. Nothing of value. So they could afford to take this stand.
And they had a railway policeman taking up their case. And all this was fine according to the railway rules.
But what about the fact that it was their mistake? what mistake? and who cares?
What about the fact that I did not even have a change of clothes? Too bad indeed, but not their problem.

If I lived there, I too could have done the same. Lodged a complaint with Coimbatore station police and then waited while the boxes would have been brought and sent through trains at our cost and delivered in a day or two or nine depending on how convenient it was to the railway system. The lady was absolved of all her sins by the very act of having brought my box to the nearest railway station.
And I became the culprit because of holding on to the box and not filing a written complaint.
Because I did not have the time to go through their leisurely processes and my contents were more valuable, I had to spend my time and energy in tracing my box and undertaking the trip to retrieve it. Since my box was to be delivered only if I brought her box intact, that idiot passenger got her box prettily sitting in her house and without spending a paisa. (well, I am not even sure who was the idiot in the whole deal finally!)
For the railways all is well that ends well.

Lesson #3: Right and wrong are irrelevant in railway rules. Procedure is of supreme value to the system. So follow Procedure. Be aware of the correct procedure. ( why do you think I am writing this long story for you?)

Lesson#4: Always secure your boxes to the hooks in the luggage space using a chain.They are there for a reason.
It is not only thieves who can make your life miserable. There are plenty of stupid morons traveling with you.

And oh yes, you can walk away with any box you like. There are no penalties for that provided you know how to follow the correct procedure.
And what about right and wrong - come on, which planet are you on?

Platform # 2A and other hidden facts

2010-12-16T16:31:00.012+07:00

Did you know there is platform no 9 3/4 at our own Chennai central Station? Only it is called platform number 2a. The notice board shows Platform no 2A against your train. You follow the signboard and reach the platform between 2 and 3 only to find a few shops. No tracks!So you stand there confused as people either point to platform 2 or platform 3 as 2A. There is comfort in numbers as a few others are also looking to board the same train. Then a porter tells you to keep walking and voila!

If you have to leave home by 6 a.m and hate the food available on Brindavan Express - idli vada/pongal-vada/masala dose/bread-omelette/soupu-soupu/masalavade/ molaga bajji/ veg biryaani/ boli-obbat - there is a tastier option. You can pack tasty takeaway food from Hotel Saravana Bhavan at the station . Sambar sadam + VAT @ 2% at Rs.38.24 with a packing Charge of Rs.2.50 along with banana chips. Yum and filling. Of course you can opt for curd rice, puliyodharai, idli-vada or khichidi!
And if you have to buy food from IRCTC, make sure you are charged right. Have you ever noticed the price list nailed near one entrance to the coach? I hadn't till yesterday and I have always paid Rs.5 for tea while I should only have been charged Rs.3!

You are welcome!

If you know where to find the standard luggage charges to be paid to the porter based on the number of boxes please do share. And is there a place where you can fill in a complaints form about the status of the coach - snack tray falling down, backrest adjustment lever not working, bathroom taps leaking etc? Where can one find the guy who walks with a huge screw driver before the departure of the train?

How to gym and still be happy

2010-11-24T18:30:00.007+07:00

Some people genuinely go to the gym for the sole purpose of attaining fitness. But most, I suspect, are like me. I make sure that I go to the gym at least 5 days in a week. But I never push myself beyond my comfort levels. I will not do weights because of my doctor's advice; In 1985 when I had severe neck and back pain I had been advised not to lift any weights. And to this day I don't! I walk on the tread mill for about 20 minutes carefully ensuring that I don't ever increase the speed beyond 6. One has to be slow and steady to win the race, remember? On days I am in a good mood I use the cross trainer for about 10 minutes - that is on a couple of days a week. This is enough to assuage the pangs of my conscience and to nonchalantly tell the doctor during my periodic check-up that I am 'pretty regular at the gym' eliciting a nod of approval from her. In fact last time she even said that she admired my perseverance at my age while she herself rarely exercised. And I gave a very smug smile acknowledging the compliment. Well, it wasn't like I was lying to her. It is true that I am regular at the gym and she never asked me what I did there.

Since it is that time of the year when you begin to think of new year resolutions I was trying to make a list of areas where I needed to improve so I could choose the least difficult to work on in the coming year. That is when I had to admit that this is an aspect I could easily work on - one gram at a time. So I decided to observe my co-gymmers and see what I can learn from them.

This morning, by the time I reached the gym, two members were already there on the treadmill loudly arguing in Bengali about something. It was only after 5 minutes when they laughed together that I understood that they were having a cordial conversation. They always come together and throughout the time they are in the gym they have a conversation in Bengali. I suspect they are colleagues from the same department and this is an official meeting. Taking multi-tasking to new levels!

Then there is this other gentleman who walks into the gym, grabs the remote and sets the television to a news channel. E.v.e.r.y. morning - as though he is worried that during his one hour in the gym the world will change in ways he wont recognize when he steps out. I cannot believe that he cannot stay away from news even for the duration of his exercise. Or may be it is the news that helps him sweat more than the jog on the treadmill. He seems to suffer from a pain in the back as the trainer has to massage his back every morning at the end of his session. I can understand. When I watch news channels regularly I suffer from such ailments myself.

Some days I go there in the evening and that's the time the younger boys come. It warms the 'cockles of my heart' to see a few high school kids who prefer to spend time in the gym rather than on the internet. Observing them for a few days, I noticed that they did not progress beyond holding 3 kg dumbbells and moving their arms up and down while spending over 90 minutes in the gym; which is when I noticed the television again. Glamorously (un)dressed girls crooning love songs in a sexy voice - this would certainly not be a channel their parents might be happy to let them watch in their houses. It is even possible that the cable has been disconnected in their houses during their board exam years. Here they are - working out to their preferred music; Happy parents, happy kids, win -win!

Finally there are those who come to the gym, work out on every possible machine losing about 500 calories per session, hang from bars, pump with weights, top it with 5 minutes of skipping and 10 minutes of stretching and finally leave the gym dissatisfied that there are no more machines left to work on. This type scares me but mercifully they are very few in number.

At the end of these observations I have decided to increase my time at the Gym by 10 minutes from next month onwards. I have also identified the equipment on which I will spend these extra minutes - the foot-massager!

Is correct all that correct?

2010-11-21T21:26:00.011+07:00

It is one thing to be sensitive about the implied violence or hurt to people in usage of certain terms and refraining from such usage and another about simply trying to be 'correct' and sweeping the underlying issue under the carpets. With most people I meet it is the latter. For example when people try to describe my complexion as dusky I do get irritated - why not call it dark and what is wrong with being dark anyway? That is the complexion of our race in the south of Vindhyas. It is genetic, it has to do with our ethnicity and I have no problem being that. So don't invent nicer names to describe it and make me feel bad. It is the same with a nice, plump figure - I suppose ethnically we are not an anorexic, thin race. Look at our statues on the temples. They are nicely plump and curvy and it was considered beautiful. I think there will be a lot less implied judgement if we freely used the words, 'fat', 'dark', 'old' etc rather than hushing them as if they were some kind of bad words. It is when you people try to go to great lengths to avoid using a term that you begin to get a feeling that it is not an acceptable state. I am pretty sure that people felt nice and beautiful in the dark and plump glory until some fair -skinned people came and started using 'dusky' and 'rounded' in hushed terms.

I noticed another dimension of the same kind of this 'correctness' violence in some American shows. Any reference to the ethnicity of people is considered incorrect - for example this white couple meet a doctor of South-Asian descent and one of them tries to make references to Asian culture and cuisine in the conversation much to the embarrassment of his white companion. The doctor herself coldly responds that she is not familiar with the Asian dishes he mentions as she is from Denver and NOT South Asia. To me the South Asian's refusal to acknowledge her ancestry seems more embarrassing than the White man's reference to her culture. Unless she feels that 'being American' is superior to 'being South Asian', why would she be upset by the man's South Asian references? And what is wrong with acknowledging your ethnicity/ ancestry/ origins?

Say it like it is and it is just a plain name for it. Try to tone it down, wrap it in semantics, used hushed tones and correct terminology - I know that you have contempt, pity or simply don't think it is alright to be that way. The term Devar adiyal were used for the temple dancers who were supposed to be servants of God. They were married to the temple deity and had some privileges during temple festivals.
Writer V. Sriram in his biography of a famous devdasi bangalore Nagaratnamma titled The devadasi and the saint writes:

The concept of dedicating women to temples, a common feature of most ancient civilisations, was well-known in South India. Devadasis, the handmaidens of God, were dedicated to the arts outside the temple precincts too, attached to kings and rich patrons and entertaining masses with music and dance. Many of them were literate, learned and enjoyed absolute right over all properties bequeathed to them by the temple, protected by a matriarchal system which ensured property went from mother to daughter. Girls were the preferred progeny here. "Chastity' was redefined by these women and they were never seen as common prostitutes.

It wasn't a bad word - it just meant handmaiden of God. When royal patronage stopped and their sources of income dwindled, girls of these families had to seek the patronage of wealthy men who expected favors from them and soon the term began to have a contemptuous connotation in society. Growing up I only knew of this as a bad swear word and never knew the origin of the word until I read about the devdasi tradition in South Indian temples. So when Nagarathnamma renovated the samadhi of the saint poet Thyagaraja in Tiruvaiyaru and had a function to open it to public she thundered into the microphone: I am a devar adiyal! She was one and she clearly felt no embarrassment being one. Oh, I would have given an arm and leg to see the faces of the judgmental people who were in the audience that day.

Thin, tall and fair are not universally normal.People come in all shapes, colors and sizes - just see the animal kingdom. If you want to feel good about how sensitive and humane you are , start by accepting diversity rather than hushing issues that you consider are not normal or not so good. Just let people be without making them feel bad about the way they are.

P.S.:Just read this myself. It seems almost like an extension of the topic of previous post! Well may be I am just a little too obsessed by this topic. Might as well publish and get it off my system!

Pati, patni aur WHO

2010-11-02T16:46:00.007+07:00

A few days ago there was outrage over a Supreme court judge's use of the word 'keep" to describe the relationship between a man and a woman in a relationship the contract of marriage. An upset additional Solicitor general Ms.Indira Jaisingh condemned the usage and asked:
"How can the Supreme Court of India use the word 'kept' in the 21st century against a woman. Can a woman say that she has kept a man?"
It is true that the usage would shock the educated and independent women of today as they are not dependent on a man to 'keep' them or provide for them.. If they enter into a live-in relationship with a man it is for reasons other than needing a man to provide for them financially. In fact, it is only women with a high sense of independence who seem to prefer this kind of an arrangement over a married relationship.These people probably do not care to define their relationship in any terms - partnership or live-in or cohabitation.

On the other hand there is this vast other India which is totally patriarchal where the malice of men 'keeping' a woman been in practice overtly and covertly and we have all come across instances of the same. Inexperienced, helpless women taken by wealthy, influential men under their wings gradually settling into a relationship with these men . They are well provided for and protected and even enjoy a degree of respectability because of their association with the influential man but still they are not their wives. They are “andha veedu’ or ‘chinna veedu’. or simply WOH. Many temple dancers of South India have had wealthy patrons with whom they have been involved emotionally and physically without being married to them. It was probably necessary to get into this kind of arrangements for several reasons. In some cases it was not possible for the man to marry the woman because of distinctions of caste, class etc. In some cases it was also because the man was already married and could not legally marry another woman without divorcing the first. In most other cases it was because the man wanted both the women and this arrangement was convenient. In these cases both women were dependent on the man for their respectability; ironically their respect depended on a philanderer who by this very act should have been deprived of any respectability.But in a patriarchy, men get away with a lot.

Such arrangements are not uncommon even today especially among the disadvantaged sections of our society and the women involved in these relationships are entirely dependent on the man who ‘keeps’ them. These women lack education or self confidence and are not capable of fending for themselves. They do not have a family whose support they can count on. And because they do not have any property rights these women have sometimes been known to manipulate their men into transferring financial benefits to them depriving their wives and children. These relationships have been held in contempt by a society that holds marriage as a sacred institution. Since they want to secure the interests of the wife and children from a married relationship, they have refused to grant any recognition to these add-on relationships and the disrespectful and contemptible term ‘keep’ is just a reflection of the status that our society accords to these arrangements. So if we agree that it is not right for a man to cheat on his wife or use his power to exploit women, why do we want to dignify the ‘other’ relationship or sugar coat it with semantics? The contemptible term ‘keep’ simply symbolizes the contempt that society has for such relationships and perhaps will only act as a deterrent for women who may be tempted to get into such a relationship with a man? These are not’ significant others’ as they would probably not even find a mention if the man was interviewed, they are definitely not’ live-ins’ as the man lives elsewhere with his wife. The ‘other’ woman, 'Woh' , Chinna veedu, andha veedu –these terms are here to stay whether they are expunged from official documents are not. We can hope for them to disappear only when our women are educated and acquire financial independence and can tell the man to take a walk if they don't behave.

Until then I have no problem with the term ’keep’ to call a woman in such a vulnerable situation my only grouse is that the man who is at the bottom of all this problem gets away without any pejorative label – the CAD!

Like mom used to make it

2010-09-21T23:00:00.000+07:00

I am not a foodie . I will eat anything that is set before me at mealtimes. For me , it is too much effort to undertake a trip to the other side of town to check out the food in a restaurant even if it receives rave reviews from connoiseurs. On the rare occasion that I do get to dine in one of these places that come highly recommended, I still look forward to the conversation rather than the food. Last Friday I met my friend Asha at a nice restaurant in UB city and later when Akila asked me what we had for lunch, I struggled even to describe it to her leave alone remember the name of the dish.

I would have imagined that a non-complaining consumer like me should be the favorite of any cook. But that is not the case. Good cooks want their creations to be criticized, appreciated , evaluated. The older women in my family cooked sambar, rasam and vegetable on a daily basis but eagerly waited for feedback from those who ate it. “sambar sariya irukka?’ (‘is the sambar ok?’) my grandmom would ask as you took the first mouthful of sambar mixed with hot rice and ghee. That was your cue to savour the mouthful and tell her how good it tasted. To be fair to her and most of the ladies of her generation , they turned out delicious sambar and rasam with unfailing consistency. She would have been delighted with a response a la wine tasters about the full body and the delicious blend of the spices and the divine aroma. Or at the minimum, a comment about the balance of salt and spices in the dish. Naturally she would be disappointed with my insensitive treatment of her labor of love as just a means to whet my appetite -no more, no less. No wonder she preferred to seek the opinion of my sister who could say that one-eighth of a pinch of salt would make the dish perfect.

Looking back, what amazes me about the cooking of these women of earlier generations is the consistency in taste. My grandmother’s rasam tasted the same every time she made it. Not once have I seen her put a spoonful in her mouth to check for taste while cooking but the finished product always had the same taste. We called it “kai manam” or the taste of the hand that made the dish. And we ate the same dishes most of the days of the week – a sambar, a rasam and a curry or kootu and yet the meal was extremely satisfying to the palate and stomach. It was simple, tasty and healthy. In recent times I have watched several cookery shows – Indian and international– on the television and that is when I realized the amazing simplicity of our cooking both in terms of the ingredients and in terms of the processes. We just boil, steam or fry. The basic ingredients needed were coriander seeds, chillies and tamarind and a set of spices stored in a box with 5 containers (anjarai petti) for mustard, fenugreek, cumin, pepper and asafetida. This is all they needed to keep their family fed on happy meals most days of the year.

A few days ago, my cousin gave me a cookery book containing recipes of everyday dishes cooked in our family handed down the generations. Today I made a kootu (vegetable and lentils gravy) based on a recipe from the book and when I ate it, there were tears in my eyes as it tasted just like the kootu prepared by my mother. It brought back so many memories of her moving about the kitchen, making these dishes and serving us hot food at every meal whether she was sick or tired or sad. In my mind, the taste of the food that she used to make was so much a part of her - as much as everything else she was. As the author calls it in this article, that taste was a part of my ‘food ancestry’ and it moved me to tears.

This experience is probably something that the younger generation cannot relate to. With the demands and pressures their careers impose on them, there is very little cooking happening in many houses of younger couples these days. It is true that today we have an endless range of food options within our reach and so there is no reason to confine ourselves to the traditional recipes of our ancestors. And whether people want to cook their meals or not is a matter of individual preference. But when the hearth no longer symbolizes family togetherness, children of coming generations will not have memories of growing up intertwined with watching their mom/dad cooking and the medley of smells from a warm kitchen, the signature taste of the way mom used to make this dish or that. With the rise of take-out, eating-out culture, a lot of traditional recipes may soon be forgotten too.

Since these recipes are so much a part of our tradition and culture we could probably make an effort to save them from total oblivion. Do you have any traditional recipe or cooking tip specific to your family that has already disappeared from most kitchens? Please do share as a comment or mail me at Usha.vaidyanathan@gmail.com

The other animals in my family

2010-09-18T10:59:00.017+07:00

One way to get the most reticent of ladies to open up is to ask about their child. I have noticed that mothers are always enthusiastic to talk about their kids even if it is to complain about them. With pet owners, a sure-fire icebreaker is to ask about their pets. I have known the most curmudgeonly persons open up on the subject of their most wonderful pet . It is the same during morning walks. When I am at the other end of the leash, I find other dog owners, total strangers, nodding to me or smiling. By virtue of owning a pet, we all seem to belong to a club which has no physical existence but whose rules and by-laws we all know instinctively - the non-existent association of pet owners everywhere. These are the people who identify people as 'Munni's mom" or 'zoozoo's dad'. The other day someone in my colony was saying something about Mr.M, who used to be the chairman of XYZ bank and I found myself responding: 'who is this now - oh ok, you mean Simba's dad?" To some of us, even Barack Obama might be better known as Bo's dad.

When friend's call me the conversation invariably veers to the subject of my dogs somehow or other. I have a couple of friends whose children insist on visiting us every time they are in Bangalore just to spend some time with the dog/s. One such friend was in bangalore last month and he was enquiring about Munni. He had met her last when she was about 4/5 months old and remembers how hyper she was. In case you have read this post you may not have forgotten what a psychotic pup she was. I never thought she would grow to become the docile, laid-back character that she is. Now Zoozoo makes me think that Munni was an angel. This one makes me want to feed her Prozac to calm her down and pop one myself after chasing her all over the place . By contrast Munni appears totally zen. When my friend heard this he laughed and said "I think pets tend to reflect the personality of their owners. They are probably the way they are because of you and your spouse." Well, this friend knows us for over 30 years, that is from the time of our restless youth. I have to agree that there was a period in my youth when I was as hyper as munni and zoozoo. That this period may have lasted for about 20 years doesn't really give him the right to make that comment but you know how friends are.

His comment made me think about the personality traits of the dogs I have had and how unique each one has been.
First of all there was Patta. She was a tiny pomeranian who was primarily my aunt's dog but spent quite some time with me whenever my aunt travelled. This was one dog with an attitude. One of her legs was damaged at birth and she walked with a limp but that did not deter her from facing up to the fiercest street dogs that dared to cross our house. To prevent her from running away I had her tied to a cane foot stool thinking that would be sufficient to hold this tiny dog. one day I had left her like that and gone in. When I returned she had disappeared and I found her a few meters from our house. There she stood with the leash still attached to the stool and there were 6 street dogs around her and she was scaring them all with her persistent bark.
Such was her spirit!
This was a dog who wanted to go for a walk and once she finished her business, she would ask you to carry her back. Now Patta had clear ideas about where she wanted to sit, sleep etc. If she wanted to sit on the chair you were seated in, she would simply sit before you and stare until you get up. She used to love tomatoes and cucumber and go and stand near the fridge if she wanted some. Coming back from work and finding her sleeping inside my wardrobe is one of my sweetest memories of this totally fearless white pomeranian. And I wasn't allowed to raise a hand (in jest) at my son - she would jump between me and Siddharth shielding him and barking at me - all this when she was just a foot in height and my son was well over 5 feet!

Then there was Sabha 1. He had been rescued by a French student who left him with me when it was time for her to go back. He was with me until I found a home for him. This guy would sing himself to sleep. And he thought Patta was a joke. He could not believe that such a furry, fluffy, fussy character was really a dog. So he would go and pull her tail and Patta would be neurotic. He was too small to climb on to chairs so Patta used to jump from sofa to sofa just to avoid being caught by this fellow. When we sat outside the house Patta would be tied and Sabha, being small was free to roam. The rascal would sneak behind Patta, bite a clump of her fluffy hair and when Patta would start screaming, he would quietly run away behind the plants. He was quite a rascal who went to guard a farm a few weeks after being with me. I do not think Patta ever forgave me for bringing him into HER house.

Munni 1 was actually a wolf in dog's clothing we think. We picked her up from Cartman Animal Shelter. She had been in a street accident and Cartman people had rescued her and put her up for adoption. The accident had damaged her spine but that did not deter her from running at lightning speed. She was capable of squeezing through window bars and getting out of the house when she wanted. She did not bark much but she would BITE. She would bite first and then wag her tail. she had bitten me, the plumber, electrician, painter - just about anyone who came to the house. She would look adoringly at you and just when you bend down to pet her, she would bite and run. When her spine got worse and when she began to need constant hospital treatment, X-rays etc, the doctor advised us to send her to CUPA. I can't forget the surprised look in her eyes when I left her there and walked away. I cried for days after that.

Sabha 2 walked into our house on his own. He would sneak from under the gate to look for milk in Munni's bowl and would linger within the compound. If Munni bothered him too much he would quietly sneak back the way he came in and this would make Munni hysterical as she could not catch him. He would return when he thought Munni had calmed down. So it was more a case of him adopting us than the other way around.
He was the sweetest dog I have had so far. His tail just didn't stop wagging. He was happy with everything in the world. He had no grand plans of guarding the house and he acted like a polite receptionist welcoming everyone into the house. But they had to be older than 10. To him, humans below the age of 10 or less than about 3 feet in height were the worst menace to the world.
He got a bit ill-tempered after he started getting epileptic attacks when he was about 4. We could not believe that our sweet dog could break the jaw bones of a Rajapalayam dog when they got involved in a street fight. He used to love riding in the car and truly believed the car was his. This is the guy you see here. He was with us for about 6 years.

Munni2 : we thought this one would win the world's worst dog pageant considering that she was a one-dog demolition squad in the house. As a pup, she could not be left unsupervised for one minute - running, breaking, digging and stealing food. I wrote a detailed post on this terror here.But surprisingly she has turned out alright. She actually understands commands and even obeys them when she feels like it. Today at the ripe age of three and half she leads a totally retired life eating three square meals a day. She thinks her job description is to follow me around everywhere and to make sure that she gets her share out of anything I eat. She can be found sitting forlornly in my porch whenever I am away. Rest of the time she is never more than 10 feet away from me. She protests vociferously if she asked to stay outdoors. Generally she can be found stretched in the most comfortable spot in the house depending on the season. Considering how possessive she used to be about me and everything in the house, it is a great surprise that she has accepted Zoozoo into the house so gracefully.
She seems to have outsourced all barking and guarding duties to the able junior - Zoozoo, who barks and jumps for two dogs anyway.

Zoozoo; is the latest and possibly the last dog I will own, simply because I am not sure that I am going to survive bringing her up. Within the span of 5 minutes she can be found digging a huge pit in the garden, running after Munni, peeping into the dustbin for anything she may find to drag to her bed. I have already changed her bed 3 times as her favorite pastime is to tear the cover cloth and spread the cotton all over the porch. And whenever she is excited she tears up some cloth, any cloth that she can find. There is hardly a towel or a bed spread that is not torn in the house. Other casualties to her sharp teeth include my Reebok shoes, power cord of the laptop, Akila's (D-I-L) branded handbag and my spectacles. For her speed and destructive capabilities, I should have named her Tsunami.
She might have a great career in politics because she can flatter anyone with by bestowing her adoring looks, licks and furious tail-wagging as long as she can get what she wants.
Some people don't approve of Bonsai culture. Zoozoo doesn't like growing plants in pots. She systematically pulls out plants from pots and leaves them on the ground. Perhaps this is part of some environmental movement that I am yet to understand completely. But she is a dog with civic sense - she will do her potty only in our garden. She jumps up and down until she is taken for her walk in the morning but will always hold and come back to our garden and do it inside the compound! With proper training I think she can be trained to be a goal keeper in one of the ball games - such is her obsession with balls. She runs after them and catches them with the kind of passion I have seen only among players of these games.

Each of these dogs had/has a distinct personality but despite being so different their modus operandi is the same: They all know how to manipulate their way into our hearts.They take one look at me and they know 'here's the loser I want to adopt". Then they go about charming me with an overload of cuteness and slowly move into my house. Once this is accomplished, they go about doing exactly what they want to do. And whenever they hear me say "I am the owner of these dogs" they smirk inwardly and think: 'Ya,right.'
I am sure that's the story of every dog owner's life!

advice or interference?

2010-09-16T13:13:00.005+07:00

It was a discussion on safeguarding of individual rights among married couples.
A lady complained that her husband wants her to vote for the candidate of his choice. She feels that he has no right to interfere in her right to vote - a right given to her by the constitution as a citizen of this country.
Husband retorts that the wife does not know the P O L of politics. She doesn't even read the newspapers. So he is only trying to be a responsible citizen by ensuring that her vote is not wasted on the wrong candidate. It is his duty as a responsible citizen to guide her.
This elicited a lot of disapproval from the others present.

In as much as we enjoy rights in a democracy, do we not have a responsibility too - to be aware of the political system, the parties and their policies or at least know about the candidates in order to understand if they are the right candidates to represent us? I hear many youngsters say that they only read the sports page or the entertainment pages and do not want to know about politics. " I am not interested in politics' is a refrain heard among a lot of youngsters. Is this even a choice in a democracy? And they have the right to vote by the time they turn 18. Who do they go and vote for? what criteria do they use?

If this is the case, is it even a case of interference in their rights if a more informed person tries to advise members of their family on the best candidate to vote for? Of course the ideal situation would be to enlighten the ignorant about the parties and their programs and then leave the choice to the voter. But if the person says that he/ she doesn't want to know about politics, why is it wrong if a better informed person interested in the politics of the country tells l them to vote for a certain candidate/ party?

While I am all for individual rights, I don't see this a s a case of interference in one's rights. It would be an interference if he prevented her from voting or if he punished her for voting contrary to his advice. But I think the advice per se doesn't amount to interference. I would assume that we all have such a duty in a democracy.
What do you think?

Things they might say...

2010-08-16T20:53:00.007+07:00

And .... I am back!

First of all, my sincere thanks to all of you who wrote in to ask if I am o.k and why I wasn't posting. And since you asked:
People go to chennai and come back with saris or snacks from Grand sweets or surya sweets but I have to be different you see. So I come back with strange viruses and promptly fall sick the day I arrive. No offense intended to my beloved Madrasapattinam as I could be catching these viruses somewhere between Bangarpet and Bengaluru. I usually ignore this as a part of my life, suffer from a combination of cold+ cough+high fever for a few days and then get back to my levels of normalcy. Not this time. First there was high fever and body pain; then the fever abated but joint pains remained. With medication the pain subsided but left me feeling a bit drugged all the time. And I have a suspicion that like these computer viruses, this bug was destroying the ideas in my head every time one cropped up. I remember having quite a few ideas for posts in those few seconds of lucidity between high fever periods but cannot recollect a single one now - so how do you explain that!

It was here that I was about to thank you all profusely for your continued support and encouragement and take your leave until I am able to come up with an idea for a post when I heard a voice from the television say: Things your toothbrush might say!
I have no idea which program it was or who said this because the channel had been changed by the time I turned to look at the television. But it did give me an idea for a post and I began to wonder what my toothbrush might say if only it could speak:

Helooow good morning! what, grumpy and sleepy again this morning? mmm...
ow ow could you please go easy on the amount of paste that you are smearing on me? All that salt in it is making me want to puke. Why cant you be like other normal people and buy toothpastes with mint or peppermint flavor? Just my luck, I end up in this house!

'you know what, that one time you put a nice smelling cream on me thinking it was toothpaste? that was heavenly - for days after that I was smelling of sandal and turmeric and felt so good about myself. And I even remember the gentle warm water rinses I got during that period. That is when I got a glimpse of life on the other side. I wish you'd lose your head often like that.

'What bugs me about this house is the inequality and injustice I face. Why does my colleague with an identical CV get to sleep comfortably in your travel pouch while I am left standing in a bowl in your bathroom all the time? And she works just a few days in a year while I have to work everyday two or sometimes even three shifts? And this other one just cleans your remotes and other gadgets while I, I get to do the dirty work. This is really unfair. So I did not say a word when your maid mixed us up and put your gadget cleaning brush near the wash basin and put me in her place. I watched you with wicked glee as you picked her up sleepily and nicely cleaned your teeth. It wasn't so much fun when you finally spotted the difference and threw us both into the dustbin.

'Now I miss standing in that glass on your wash counter. I miss being picked up by you every day. I used to feel happy every time you used one of us to clean the dust off some tiny gadget and then declare: 'The toothbrush is probably the most useful thing invented by Man.' I already see my replacement standing proudly in that glass eager to start work from tonight. May be you will never think of me. Or may be you might say: 'that blue and white one with those gentle bristles? She was the best toothbrush I ever had. I haven't found one like her since I threw her away.' Just may be, as I tried to be the best toothbrush that I could be.
'It is time for me to go. I don't know where I shall go from here. Perhaps I will end up in a dog's mouth or in a little boy's hands or perhaps I will get buried and e simply forgotten.
'Farewell and may you have strong and healthy teeth for many years to come..

If any of the stuff in your house could speak what do you think it might say?

P.S.: And thanks to the reader who met my husband in Singapore and told him how popular my blog is in Singapore. I had no idea about this. Made my day.
And my husband had no idea that I wrote a blog - it is going to be seven years now and he gets to know about it now from someone on the streets of Singapore. What is it they say about the spouse being the last to know! hehehe...

The manly things that I do

2010-07-06T17:19:00.006+07:00

Sandhya and TheIndianhomemaker tagged me to state 10 things that I do that are normally not considered feminine.
I grew up in a family where women did all the work and men analysed, criticised and paid the bills. I was considered a Tomboy because I had no problem speaking to strangers, I always spoke my mind out, never blushed, did not care about what I wore or how I looked.
It is a little tough for me to do this post because I really am not aware of what is supposed to be 'feminine' but I will try.

- I don't depend on a male to change bulbs or fix minor problems relating to TV antenna, cable, telephone etc. The other day there was no power in the house for about 4 hours and husband was trying to reach the electricity office. I opened the fusebox and found that the fuse had fallen and voila! I am a bit more mechanical than most women that I know who need help even to change their gas cylinder. I am generally comfortable around gadgets although I don't make it my life's mission to own each of them.

- I drove a scooter to work for about 8 years.

- I was the manager of a bank branch - at that time I was the only lady manager in the whole region although it is fairly common now. Some of the boys in the office insisted on calling me 'saar' just to rile me.

- Since husband had a heart surgery a few years back, I am the the one who lifts all the heavy things around the house. Come to think of it, I believe it was the case even before the surgery.

- When our son left for distant shores for the first time, it was the husband who was wiping away tears. I just said good bye, came home and slept. Not that I wasn't hurting. it is just that I tend to approach these things a little less emotionally and more rationally.

- I used to be able to change the punctured tyre of my car. Haven't done it in a while. Don't know if my hands have the strength still. Will try it one of these days just for fun.

- While at parties or weddings I tend to look at the women especially the good looking ones. I can hear your thoughts, hahahha. I just think that women look much nicer than men in general. That is all. And since I have no idea about the right stuff to wear and the accessories, I am in awe of those who can do it all and carry themselves well.

- Cannot understand why anyone needs more than one handbag or two pairs of slippers.

- will not wear something uncomfortable just to look good - e.g. high heels or stilettos. Will quite happily wear my walking shoes with my silks if only people would have the decency not to point it out and comment.

- I do have a slight beard these days which I often forget to pluck and I allegedly snore. Is that manly enough for you?

Now I am not tagging anyone but please feel free to pick up the tag and I assure you that you will have as much fun as I did.
I actually don't mind those TV remotes and beer mugs in Navy blue wrappers. IHM, where do I send you the details so you can mail them to me?

The Elai saapadu experience

2010-06-21T21:51:00.005+07:00

Have you read chetan Bhagat”s “two states’? Did you notice that he talks about the meals on banana leaf at his prospective in-law’s house? Does it sound so very South Indian to you? mm. But, unfortunately most of us do not eat our meals on banana leaves any more since we discovered the convenience of stainless steel plates and that was over fifty years ago, I think. In cities most houses do not have the space for their own kitchen garden and if they need a leaf for their meals they’d have to buy it from the market and sometimes it may not even be available in every market.

On the other hand banana leaf meals are indeed an important ritual at our weddings and special occasions when special feasts follow a family function. I call it a ritual as there are rules regarding the placement of dishes on the leaf and the order in which they are served in several courses during the meal. People who are in charge of serving the meal are supposed to observe the leaves and serve the side dishes as and when they disappear from the leaves according to the preference of the guest. Since it is difficult to know the preference of all guests before hand, this system did involve cooking enormous quantities of all items on the menu and sometimes food was wasted both on the leaf and as leftover food. Buffet system has come to be considered as a better option to avoid wastage but a typical Tamil feast does not lend itself elegantly to this. As it involves mixing rice with several gravys a plate is rather small to contain the spread of a typical Ilai sappadu or banana leaf feast.Several of my relatives look down on buffet system where one queues up with a plate to have the meal served – they think it is like a soup kitchen for the homeless!
Well, they are like this only – have I not told you about my Thanjavur roots and the sharpness of our tongue!

The problem with Banana leaf meals at weddings today is that the service is rather impersonal which takes away the essence of such a meal. Meals are contracted out and served mechanically at breakneck speed. Side dishes are served with tea spoons and if you are lucky they may come once again to check if you need any more. Otherwise it is a race against their serving speed. By the time you are halfway through your sambar rice , a guy appears asking if you need rice for rasam followed closely by the guy with rasam. Two minutes later, while you are still delicately negotiating the rasam from flowing on to your lap, a guy wants to know if you want more rice for the next course with buttermilk. It is indeed tough even for seasoned banana leafers. And there is an additional torture in some halls. To prevent the appalam from flying away they switch off the fans. Draped in silks in a mid summer afternoon, trying to eat hot food keeping pace with the servers and no fan? To an outsider it might indeed seem like a case that merits reference to the National Human Rights Commission.

At a Palakkad Tamilian wedding that I attended recently there was a Punjabi couple seated opposite me at lunch. It was a typical Palakkad feast with exotic stuff like Avial, Olan and erisseri and of course Paal payasam. Most of the North Indians I know who tell me that they enjoy South Indian food once in a while actually mean Idly and Dosa – nothing more. Avial and Paal Payasam? Oops they’’d need an orientation course even to pronounce their names.. So naturally this couple looked totally lost . They tasted tiny bits of everything and gave up early in the battle. Since they had nothing to do after the first two minutes of the meal they were watching those around with great curiosity – up to our wrists in the leaf, quickly shoving in mouthfuls in order to keep up with the pace of the service, all this while admirably controlling the rasam's flow within the boundaries of the leaf; sweating profusely while consuming the hot food in such huge doses but not letting go of a second helping of olan and erisseri. As I surveyed the leaf of the couple and saw that it was practically untouched, I wondered if they’d go home and make a few paranthas for lunch.

And the bride at this wedding was from Orissa. I hope there was some way her family had found to order in some Pizza unobserved by the groom’s side. Or perhaps they just sat and fumed at the banana leaf lunch and had their revenge at the Oriya reception?
Remember Aesop's fable about the stork and the fox?

P.s: Wrote this originally in Tamil - yes I have a Tamil Blog here. Please visit and tell me what you think.And please be kind...

blogging in the time of twitter

2010-06-16T17:45:00.013+07:00

I found a mail in my mailbox a couple of days ago. It started thus:

Hi,
We are shutting down DesiPundit effective midnight (CST) June 15th, Tuesday. It has been a fun five years and we have enjoyed every moment. We wish to thank all Community Members for sharing your content with our readers and I hope we managed to win you some readers.

Over at DesiPundit, people have moved on to other things and time & resources haven't been as plentiful for those who have remained. The Indian blogosphere and presence on other social media networks has expanded greatly and in our experience, it is no longer possible for human-powered aggregators to keep up; at least on a part-time volunteer basis.
...

It is sad that they decided to shut down . Particularly for me as I had just become a contributor a few months back. For years, Desipundit had been something I could only read as an outsider. Occasionally when a post of mine would be featured here it was a great honor - a validation of my blogging efforts. I remember the first time when I saw that my site meter had crossed the 300 mark for the first time and most of the traffic was from Desipundit. It was for this post and I
wrote to my son:
Hey, I can now die in peace. My post made it to Desipundit!
Over the years a few other posts had the honor but it took 6 years of blogging before I was invited to become a regular contributor. And then the sudden end.

Or perhaps not all that sudden - Over the past year, blogging seem to have lost its sheen somewhat. Many of us don't seem to feel the urgent need to blog about the minutiae of our lives. Some of the bloggers on my reader haven't blogged a word in months. And there is also the diminished interest from readers who don't not seem to have the time to read long posts and react. Twitter, the microblog, which allows you to express yourself pithily in blocks of 140 characters has taken over the space and time as a more convenient options for sharing opinions and ideas on the go. Rapid fireworks, less responsibility of sustaining a longer conversation. More in sync with he pace of our times unlike blog which demands a more in-depth elaboration of ideas.
Why use 400 words where 140 would serve the purpose? And it is more glamorous too - you share the space with the who's who of journalism and bollywood. You are no longer dependent on tabloids to know what the stars are up to - they tell you themselves through their tweets.
There is Shahrukhkhan telling you:
am shooting a dish tv advt right now. ra.one wrapped in india..just the fotoshoot left...now rest of the shooting in london & sum in india
Or
scary plane ride...200 km/hr headwind knocked us all over. thought was going to die so covered my face & hid under thin blanket. felt safer

And when you can overhear Bachchan senior in a tete-a-tete with Karan Johar (or should we call it tweet-a-tweet?) it feels like you are part of that crowd!

By contrast blogging is a medium where unknowns bond across barriers and share thoughts and ideas and many times scenes from their lives. Like friends who meet for a cup of chai and sit down to chat. They do not need to react immediately. they could think about what you said and come back later to give their opinion unlike twitter where morning tweets are forgotten by the end of the day. If your reflexes aren't sharp enough the moment is gone and you have lost the opportunity to be part of the conversation.

Many of my old blogger friends have moved on to twitter and so I have signed up just to follow them. I personally do not have the flair to say anything in 140 characters. I need so many just to clear my throat. And then another 140 to warm up to the topic. I cannot say smart things at short notice. I have realized that tweeting requires skills that I do not possess while blogging has no such demands except the ability to string together sentences grammatically.

When you want to review a book or a film or rant about a social or political issue or share the cute things that your child says or does or just share interesting moments from your lives - blogging would still be the more convenient and appropriate medium. The reduced activity in blogosphere is a damper but I hope my favorite bloggers will not totally abandon it and will come back to post at least once in a while.
Meantime Desipundit, You will be missed.

Breakfast at Ramnagaram, lunch at Maddur and back for tea in bangalore

2010-05-20T17:05:00.020+07:00

Usually it takes an enormous bribe or dire threats to get me agree to a road trip.I am quite content to pack the picnic basket for others and receive picture postcards or photographs in return. One of the main reasons for this is that traveling in diesel cars on rough roads has never been much fun for me. I keep rolling the windows down to take a bout of fresh air to combat my queasiness, while those around sit on the edges of their seat waiting with supplies such as sickness bag and cold water in case I throw up. Not exactly anyone’s idea of a “FUN” outing. So it was with much reservation that I chalked out the route for a day trip to Channapatna, Mallur and Melukote with my sister and daughter-in- law - something do-able even for a terrible traveler like me and close enough for us to turn back if my tantrums got really uncontrollable. The plan was to leave by 7:30 and return by 5:30 p.m.

Armed with adequate supplies of water, gelusil, Eno, churan varieties, lemon drinks, paper bags and music CDs, we left home by 7:30 a.m. We were to stop for breakfast at Kamat Lokaruchi at Janapadaloka in Ramnagaram which, according to blog reports, serves unlimited quantities of idly, Vada, dosa, akki roti, pongal etc. apart from fruits, juice and coffee/ tea for a mere 80 bucks. It seemed worth making the trip just for this. Thinking of this breakfast had made us quite hungry but it was 8:45 by the time we were actually there.

Our driver Suresh must have been an ambulance driver in a previous avatar as he could not bear any other vehicle between our car and the destination. Although the car did not have a siren he compensated for it by honking all the way despite our vociferous protests. I explained that we had all day and we were in no hurry to get to any of these places. The idea was to see what was possible within lunchtime and then head back. It seemed that his desire to get ahead of all vehicles on the road had nothing to do with our plans. It was just the way he operated. But for this he was in control of the vehicle and knew the way to all the places we had in mind.

Breakfast was nothing exceptional but definitely value for the money paid. The dining hall had thatched roof and was surrounded by trees. The place was swarming with monkeys who seemed not a bit threatened by the hordes of tourists.
The toilets were wet but clean.

Once our bellies were full we became serious tourists looking out for places of interest on our way. One such was a board pointing to a road leading to the Government Lacquer ware Craft Complex where we decided to stop on our way back. The idea was to visit the temples before they closed for the afternoon. In a few minutes we were at the Shri Aprameyaswamy Temple at Doddamallur. It is an ancient temple about 1500 years old. One of the priests informed us that Lord Rama stayed here and had worshipped Lord Aprameya. Hence the deity here is known as Sriramaprameya. His consort here is called Aravindavalli. Both the idols are very beautiful, especially the way their eyes were done up was very alluring. The other main attraction at this temple is a very beautiful idol of Lord Navaneetha Krishna in the form of a crawling child holding butter in his hand. At the shop outside the temple we saw pictures of the idol decorated with butter and in another dressed up as a king. There were just a few other visitors at the temple. A couple had come with a prayer for a child. Before performing the special prayer for them the priest asked them to pledge that they would return to the temple with an offering of a toy cradle after the child is born. We saw many cradles hanging from the roof of the sanctum.
It is said that Saint Purandaradasa composed the song ‘jagadhodharana” inspired by the form of the crawling Krishna (Ambegalu Krishna) and outside this shrine is a stone on which the song is inscribed.
Despite its ancience and associations with Rama and Purandaradasa, the temple has managed to remain relatively less touristy. We did not see many tourists probably because it was a weekday. It seems a lesser known destination even to people who have lived in Bangalore for generations.
By 10 am we were back in the car and asked our pilot Suresh if we could reach Melkote by 11. He readjusted his fingers around the horn and feet around the accelerator and happily nodded. It helped that the road was good until 30 km. before Melkote and then we had to turn into a mud road which slowed us down a bit. Undaunted, Suresh jumped over sugarcane and straw spread over the road and zoomed through the curves and narrow lanes so we were outside the Tirunarayana temple a little past 11. This is a very sacred shrine for the Vaishnavites as Sri Ramanujacharya had stayed here for a few years and worshipped at this temple. In fact both the main image and the one used for processions are supposed to have been lost and restored back to the temple by Sri Ramanuja. Again the images of all the deities are extremely beautiful in this temple. The temple has a beautiful tank or Kalyani Theertham which has featured in quite a number of kannada films. (We were told that the song “Barso re’ from Guru was picturized here.)
Melkote has another important temple for Yoga Narasimhaswami which is on a hill and which is reached after climbing 250 steps. Legend has it that the deity was installed by Prahlada. There were too many partitions in the Darshan area forcing the visitors to crowd together to get a good view of the shrine. And although there were about 4 or 5 priests, it was surprising that none of them would oblige us with the holy water despite our repeated requests. It seemed that all of them were having a bad day.
From the top, there is a nice view of the town and its neighborhood.

All the way down there were beggars on the steps, some singing Bhajans and some just begging. We made a brief stop at the Temple tank before heading back towards Maddur for Lunch at Adiga’s Hotel. Although I was quite pleased with the behavior of my digestive system so far in the trip, I decided not to push my luck and settled for a Roti and Corn masala and helped myself to some payasa and gulab jamun from the South Indian and North Indian Thalis ordered by others.

Post-lunch we went to meet the Painted storks and pelicans at Kokkare Bellur. We followed the directions on the signboards and were surprised to see one board which just said Kokkare Bellur with no arrows pointing anywhere. So we looked around for a lake which is where we expected the birds to be gathering. Not finding one, we casually looked up and found them right there – perched on the trees. As we walked around the narrow street we saw every tree covered with hundreds of them and a few babies in their nests too. They were beautiful and seemed completely at peace among the residents of the village who were having a noisy prayer to drum beats at their temple. I could not get much information on why the birds chose this particular spot for migration every year. One reason could be the proximity to the river Shimsa which might supply them with all the fish they need. The trees were nothing special – ordinary tamarind trees. So that doesn’t offer any explanation. The villagers seem to consider them as harbingers of good luck and the bird droppings acts as good manure for their crops. Apparently the villagers treat the birds as their own and prevent them from being harmed. So perhaps the birds feel secure here. I wish they would open their beaks and speak.
A few children ran to our car and pointed to other trees with birds. One of the boys showed us a wounded Pelican and said that it ate 6 kg of fish everyday and drank huge volumes of water, I forget how much. Then he asked me if I could give him some pens. He looked about 6 or 7 and so I asked him what he would do with a pen. He said he needed it for school work and a three year old next to him nodded. I knew for sure that they did not use pens for school work but took out the three pens from my bag and handed it to them, By then more children had gathered demanding pens. One girl even offered: ‘Give me money, I will buy pens from the shop’. We did not want to give them money so we gave them some biscuits and they were happy. It was also funny that they kept calling us "teacher' but at least that is a sure sign that they all go to school. or is it?

Passing through Channapatna, we stopped for tea and some shopping for the famous Channapatna toys. There were a few shops on the highway but when we went in they did not seem very interested in selling stuff to us.
Since we did not particularly fancy anything either, we decided to look for them in the government craft complex but at another time. My experience so far even gave me the courage to announce: ‘I think we could drive down on our own.”

So we started homeward stopping briefly at the Kengal Anjaneya temple at Ramnagaram on the highway. We could not take the road to Kanva reservoir about 5 km away due to road repair work. We looked at our watches. It was about 3:30 and getting back home before the horrible city traffic started sounded like a great idea. So we let our driver Suresh step on the accelerator while we dozed in our seats. At 4:45 we were already home drinking tea.

A very short and pleasant day trip via the NICE road and the Bangalore-Mysore expressway (SH17). The drive is quite smooth except when you drive through the villages to reach the spots. Food is not a problem. There are plenty of restaurants. Fill up the tank, pack water and music, fasten seat belts and just follow the road signs. It is that easy if you are in Bangalore. I can’t believe that I did not do this before!

This is what happens

2010-05-14T17:18:00.011+07:00

when a 52 year old Indian woman walks into the branch of an international Gym chain in a Bangalore suburb:

Ok, I can hear you thinking 'what exactly were YOU doing there?'
So let me start at the beginning. It was my birthday sometime last week.Yes you may wish me, thank you.(presents will be accepted till end of the month and yes, I accept cash.)
So dear daughter-in-law decided to gift me a gym membership knowing that I'd never do it on my own. She also knows that I won't cheat on exercising when money has been paid.
So that is how I ended up in the gym today afternoon.

As I climbed up the stairs to the gym on the first floor, the guard smiled and told me: "Beauty parlor on the next floor."
In return I gave him a warm smile and walked inside.
There were three girls at the reception who stopped their conversation abruptly and looked at me as though I had walked into a men's restroom. (What do you mean, how do I know that? I am 52!I have done every stupid mistake there is to do. So you better believe it when I say that is how they looked!)
So I waved my receipt at them and while they were dealing with the truth I made my way to the changing room.
The two handsome guys who were on treadmills lost interest in me the minute I came out in my exercise clothes. The trainer was examining my shoes with interest particularly the area that had been chewed up by Zoozoo, my puppy on prozac.
Remember I already told you, I am too cheap to spend another 3.5 thousand on a fresh pair of shoes while I can still slip my soles inside this pair and tie the strings.

I fell in love with the trainer when he said that I need to consume 150 more calories each day. I almost called him "mother!". Who else has ever told you that you must eat more?!
He asked me what I hoped to achieve in these 4 months. Frankly all I had hoped to achieve was to extract maximum value for the amount that D-I-L had spent. I had no other nobler goals or ambitions. But this was my Miss India moment and I had to think up a smart, winning answer. So I said "I want to be as fit as I can possibly be at this age".
I could say he was impressed. Or perhaps he is paid to look impressed. Then he launched a lecture about how fitness is most neglected particularly among older women in India and how losing weight is not the same as being fit blah blah. He spoke of carbs and proteins and diet supplements and mutivitamins and...
Oh ya ya.wn -I lost him midway and started looking at all those fancy equipment and wanted to go and try each one like a five year old in a play ground. He asked me:"So that is my recommendation for you. Are you with me?" I hadn't understood half of what he said but enthusiastically agreed with him just to go and use the tread mill. Finally.

'Poor cardio-vascular and weight resistance; needs a lot of improvement' he muttered as he led me for what he claimed to be the toughest challenge. I could not believe that anything could be tougher than what I had already been through. As I waited for him to ask me to lift weights of 100 kg or some such thing he simply asked me to lift my knees and bend my hips and so on like school P.T. exercises.
'Ju ju bi' I said to myself as I twisted my arms and turned my body , and bent forward to touch my toes. Years of yoga and stretching were not a waste after all.
"I have never seen a person of your age who is so flexible. you could pass for a 30 year old" , he said with disbelief.
And I said: "show me a thirty year old who can touch his toe".
Sweet revenge!

So tomorrow if the guard tells me that the parlor is upstairs I intend giving him a feel of my oneday -toned arm with a nice punch!

Did India reject M.F.Husain?

2010-03-02T23:00:00.010+07:00

It is unfortunate that eminent painter M.F.Husain decided to relinquish his Indian citizenship in favor of a Qatari one. Indeed, it is not a rare instance in India as every year several hundred qualified Indians relinquish Indian citizenship in order to obtain one in the U.S , Canada or other countries where they believe they and their family can have a better quality of life, better education and material prospects. Some of them go on to win Nobel prizes and then we have no problem claiming them as our own sons and daughters and even trying to share some of their glory by piggy-backing on their achievements which we have a right to because of the achiever’s Indian roots/ genes or whatever. But what makes M.F.Husain’s case different is that an artist of great eminence, someone who took Indian art to the international galleries living in India, was compelled to leave the country because he did not feel safe in this country despite the government’s offer to provide his security.
It is tough for anyone to feel free when one feels the need to be constantly protected by security guards. While most V.I.P.’ s seem to get used to it a necessary evil, Husain must have found it very stifling given his history of roaming around barefoot and his preference for spending time with ordinary people rather than the rich and famous. And in today’s time where it seems tough for people in the limelight to open their mouths (or write or paint) without offending some group or other, he might never have been able to go back to his free lifestyle ever again. He has managed to offend certain people /groups through his work even by misinterpretation or misunderstanding but there is no going back – that shall shadow him forever. He may have apologized but still he remains a valuable whipping boy for these groups to settle their political/religious scores and gain public attention.

Did Husain realize this and is that is he chose to accept the Qatari citizenship when it was offered to him – to make his home in a place where he felt safe, honoured and accepted as well as send out a strong message to India about how unvalued he felt here after all his contributions?

But what might the government have done differently that might have prevented this apart from offering him and his museums high-level security?
Publicly defended the paintings that offended certain religious sensibilities in the name of artistic freedom and dismissed all cases against him summarily? That would still not have guaranteed 100% protection against vandalism or the ‘right’ of some section or other to feel offended by his works.
There are some sections that attribute his decision as an escape from the cases against him. But his citizenship still doesn’t offer him immunity from legal proceedings of pending cases. And given his stature and the ability to engage the best lawyers to argue his case, he certainly does not need to run away from the country fearing our legal system. He is neither a petty criminal nor a terrorist.
Artistic freedom is another reason that is cited by the elitist sections. But this does not seem to be the main reason going by the country whose citizenship he has accepted. In this article on the subject Vir Sanghvi asks:

Now that he has chosen to live in Qatar, the Hindutva-wallahs will ask the obvious questions: How much freedom will he have there? Of course the Arabs will let him paint naked Hindu goddesses. But will they let him paint anything that even remotely offends Muslims? Anything that offends the royal family? Nude portraits of previous rulers of Qatar? Or even, nude portraits of Arab women?
These are crude questions. But sadly, the answers are as crude. Husain will have no artistic freedom in Qatar. He will be no more than a court painter to a medieval monarch. So has he chosen to live in a society that values the artistic freedom that he says he is denied in India? Or has he just taken the soft, very profitable, option and forgotten all about artistic freedom?

Husain is certainly aware of the limitations to artistic freedom in his new country and yet chose to accept its citizenship so maybe it is not so much about artistic freedom at all.

Perhaps it is all about feeling wanted, valued and honoured in his own homeland Is it possible that he may have felt this if he had been honored with the Bharatratna? Is it too late for it even now? Does it matter that he is no longer an Indian citizen?

While all this may not matter to the painter himself anymore now that his decision is made. Let us hope that he is able to spend the rest of his life in peace giving full expression to his creativity and genius. But for us as a nation, this is probably a good time to introspect and see how we can make this into a nation that makes its people, ordinary or eminent, feel protected and wanted here and proudly hold the single identity of being Indian.

Two little eyes watching you

2010-02-25T18:43:00.006+07:00

This happened at the neighborhood supermarket yesterday afternoon. The only other shoppers in the aisle I was in were a young couple and their young girl about 3 or 4 years old. The little girl was picking up tubes of soap and toothpastes and was trying to open them and smell them while the parents were busy looking at other things. I happened to notice that the girl had opened a tube of cleansing gel and was having fun dropping the pink contents on the floor in some sort of modern art. I gestured to her mother to turn and look. The next thing I saw was that the parents took the tube from her, replaced the cap and put it back on the shelf and quickly left the aisle ignoring my advice: “I think you should pay for that tube.” By the time I found a shop assistant and informed her of the slippery floor in the aisle and the reason for it, the family had disappeared from the shop.

Bad enough that they let the child do whatever she liked in the shop; it was worse that they did not have the decency to offer to pay for the mess. Now the second one explains the first. What kind of behavior can the child be expected to learn from such parents? Do these parents realize the amount of damage they have done to their child’s values by cheating the shop of those 40 or 50 rupees ?

‘Don’t get caught’ - That is the message the child gets from such behavior. It is ok to do anything as long as you are smart enough not to get caught – Cheat, lie and even steal perhaps.

I always thought that parenthood is good for everyone because we learn to strive for perfection once we have a child looking up to us. We go all out not to lose our dignity in front of our child’s eyes. We refrain from swearing, try to be less impulsive and more mature. This is not to say that all parents are perfect but every good parent tries hard to avoid passing their shortcomings to their child. But as I see so many educated parents trying to violate traffic rules, jump queues, litter public places, I wonder what their children learn from such behavior. How would they learn to distinguish what is right from what is wrong? Or would they learn that everything is right and getting caught is the only wrong thing?

In his autobiography Gandhiji writes of an instance when he could not copy even when his school teacher prompted him to do so. So impressed was he by the character of Harishchandra from our mythology. I wonder what Harishchandra’s rating would be among parents like the one I saw in the shop? Would he be considered a ‘loser’ for sacrificing so much and not being smart enough to tell a single lie? As for Gandhiji and emulating his values the usual escape clause is: “I am not a Mahatma. I am only an ordinary person.” I do not believe that we need to be a Mahatma to follow simple traffic rules or have basic honesty. In a lot of cases such behavior is due to the simple inability to distinguish right from wrong and lack of moral courage to own up to wrong behavior and all of this, in turn, can be traced back to the absence of proper guidance and example from one’s own family and especially parents.

There are some parents who are in denial. They say that petty corruption is a way of daily adult life today and children do not really notice it all. They are still in their own world of toys and fairy tales and all this doesn’t impact them. I wish it was true. I remember an incident that my son told me when he was in 7th standard. Their school had gone on an excursion to Mysore and Shivasamudram. Their teachers wanted them to see the hydro-electric power station but the officer in-charge refused permission citing some administrative issues. One of the boys in the class was a state minister’s son and he told the teacher: ‘Sir, please note down his name. I will have him take care of.’ It is not tough to guess where he got that from, is it? As a wiseguy said: 'Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you'

Unfortunately parents are a child’s first role models and parents like the ones at the supermarket are a threat to their own children. A child exposed to such parental behavior is confused between right and wrong and the circumstances under which certain behavior is wrong. And when they land themselves on the wrong side of law for a crime their parents wonder where they went wrong. Perhaps the world would be marginally better if each one of us could use one simple question as a reference for every action: ‘What if my child did this and got caught for the same?” This would make each one of us a better human being with some hope for a better world for our children.

7 things you didn't need to know about me....

2010-02-23T17:00:00.005+07:00

It has been a while since this blog got anything by way of an award and so it was a great surprise when R's mom chose me in her list of awardees. Thank you.

I like the condition attached to accepting this award which is that I should state 7 facts about myself which I need to share. I remember that we used to have quite a few tags like this in the early years of blogging which actually let us know a bit more about the bloggers than what we gathered from their posts. Above all this came at a time when I didn't seem to find anything to blog about. So whether these facts about me or interesting or not, it would keep the blog breathing for a few days.
So 7 facts huh, let's see:

1. I have a constant fear of failing which manifests in the form of dreams where I am either prepared for the wrong subject, or I lose my hall ticket or I simply arrive at the hall when the exam is about to be over.

2. It makes me very uncomfortable when people have high expectations about me. I feel very pressured and the consequent stress kills me. I went through the whole of my bachelors' and post-graduate degree courses trying to meet the expectations of my professors which made me a wreck most of the time.

3.I do not respect people who do not contribute their bit as part of a team or in the house. I cannot stand lazy people, smart shirkers and passive consumers.

4. For me, meals with friends and family is about the company and conversation and least about the food. Most often I don't remember what I ate.

5.What I find most attractive in a person is their sense of humor, knowledge of their subject and the ability to speak well.

6. I find it tiring to have long phone conversations. After 5 minutes I get exhausted.

7.I get very annoyed when there is no milk or curd in the house.

I don't know if the world has become marginally more informed now that these 7 facts are out in the open.But it was a good exercise for me to think up something I may not have blogged about already.

So now it is time to pass on the award to 7 other Kreativ bloggers:

Suranga ( I know you don't do tags but I have to include you here because you are among the top creative bloggers for the choice of subjects).
Jane Turley (absolutely out of this world for the way she writes her posts)
Hiphopgrandmom (for blogging on unusual topics)
Hillgrandmom ( her posts are usually short but very thought provoking and I love her photographs)
Pam and Phil (both very creative people and have a wonderful blog detailing their adventures in this past year in India. The subjects of Phil's photographs are totally unusual )
Maami How can we talk of creative bloggers and leave maami out? Her subjects and style are completely awesome.
Last but not the least our beloved writer Parul who can make you smile about just about any subject she chooses to write about.

There is no pressure to do the tag but please accept the award. But if you want to do the tag, you need to share 7 facts about yourselves and pass on the award to 7 other creative bloggers.
Thank you.

Aunty and her Owner

2010-01-28T16:27:00.015+07:00

Around 7 this morning a mason who works on the construction of a house on our street showed up at our gate and asked me if the owner was in.

Now this conversation took place in our garage where I was standing next to the car with Zoozoo the puppy. Legally, I am the sole owner of the house and the car. As for Zoozoo’s ownership, the other residents of this house would have no hesitation in telling you that I am the mother, guardian and sole person responsible for Zoozoo and all her actions. And that I guess would effectively make me her owner although Zoozoo certainly thinks she owns me.

So I said ‘yes, I am the owner’. The guy laughed and said, ‘I want Saar, the owner’ and he stressed on the word ‘owner’ just in case I did not get it. That is when it dawned on me that ‘owner’ is a translation of ‘the Kannada word yajamanaru’ which means master, owner, husband et al. dating back to a time when the patriarch owned everything in the house including wife, farmhands etc.

What irked me was the fact that he laughed when I said I was the owner. Made me realize that my legal rights and status were of no concern to him. In his thinking, my husband would be the yajamana, the owner.

I am not a great fan of politically correct expressions but occasions like this make me wonder if such expressions might actually help in sensitising people to social changes and in changing stereotypes.

Stereotypes tend to get deeply rooted in our psyche and surprise us by showing up most unexpectedly. Bollywood stars are generally known for playing safe and being very correct in their statements . But on Saturday Abhishek Bachchan sprang a surprise by calling a lady who could not be much older than his wife as ‘aunty-ji’ on a game show hosted by him. The lady looked like someone in her late thirties. Even if she was in her late forties there is no need for a 35 year-old guy to refer to her as ‘aunty’. I feel that it is all this aunty- ing that makes most women in this country ‘feel’ old by the time they hit their forties. Our society even has norms for the activities considered ‘appropriate’ for women of that age. Some people say that it is a cultural thing. We are not supposed to call elders by name. I don’t know about that but I guess I speak for my entire generation of urban Indian women, that we would much rather be called by our names than be called aunty by anyone older than twenty-five unless they happen to be our own nephews or nieces or friends of our children.

Most of the time when people in their mid thirties call me as aunty I know that it springs more from their inner urge to feel younger than any respect for my age. And in any case, why respect someone just because they have been in this world for so many years? I guess getting rid of this respect-for-age concept would help us look for some genuine qualifications to respect a person rather than just a few gray hairs or a walking stick. The hypocrisy about all this ‘respecting elders’ thingy was pretty glaring while watching Mahabharatha on television. Duryodhan and his siblings would unfailingly –ji and –shree all the elders like Thathshree, Kakashree and Brathashree while showing gross disespect and sometimes even contempt towards them. It would have made no difference had he called them ‘hey Bhishm’ or ‘yo Yudhishtr.’ Respect manifests through one’s demeanour and attitude and not merely by mouthing some words that are supposed to denote respect. I wonder how many women reading this feel very respected when they are 'auntyji'ed.

Are their similar words in your language or in English that irritate you?

legal contract safer than the social one?

2010-01-16T12:28:00.000+07:00

I am no expert on marriage. The fact that you have been married for 30 years doesn't make you an expert to offer advice to someone else. Every marriage is unique and the answers to the problems in a marriage can be found only by the two individuals involved. It is a bit like life - the fact that you have lived for 50 or 80 years doesn't make you an expert on life. I am very conscious of all this and yet this is a post on some of my thoughts regarding so many things that seem to be going wrong with marriages in our society. This was triggered by a series of posts on IndianHomemaker's brilliant blog.

The other day on a Tamil television Channel, a young man was passionately lashing out against women's right activists and how they are , in reality, not helping women:
Have you noticed that in most of the cases it is girls who are educated and from relatively affluent backgrounds? By and large it seems that there is no harassment of women among the poorer sections. So does it tell you anything about the women who make an issue of harassment? A lot of it is because these women have a very low tolerance level, their expectations from the marriage are too high and they just (mis)use these laws to harass their husbands and their in-laws.
In my opinion, he was missing a lot of obvious points. Why are there fewer cases of harassment among the less affluent sections? Firstly their expectations from a marriage are very low. Sometimes their economic dependence on the man makes them accept a less than equal treatment in marriage. Many times it is also that they tend to be conditioned by conventional acceptance of male superiority or the stereotypical glorification of women as embodiments of patience, tolerance, sacrifice etc. For a list of these, we need to look no further than our television serials with phenomenal TRP ratings. Girls from poorer families also know that they are not welcome in their parent’s home if they take such problems to them. They would be promptly sent back to deal with these with patience and tolerance. So they soldier on hoping for things to change or at least develop the serenity to accept the things they cannot change as bad karma or fate and look for some positives in their life to keep them going.

The thing is that is you have grown up seeing the men and women around you behave in a certain way, you get used to that level of violence as 'normal'. I have seen families where men routinely raise their voice which is condoned in the name of pent-up stress at workplace finding release at home. If you watch Malayalam films, it is not uncommon to see men raise their hands on their women in the name of getting them back on track.
Things like this shock you only when you are from a different background or when you know that such behavior is against the law. So if there are less complaints from certain segments of the population, it is either from a higher level of tolerance or immunity to such behavior or because of ignorance . In many cases it is also the lack of support from one's own parents as IHM talks about in this post. It is indeed true that many of our girls cannot say “mere paas maa hai” (or pa / bhaiya/ behen hai). Once a girl is “married off” she is expected to adjust to her new lifestyle which is a healthy attitude as long as all is well with the marriage. But it is unfortunate that many families take this position even when the girl is subjected to harrassment and cruel treatment at the hands of her husband or his relatives. So the girl’s reaction to such treatment draws from her early experiences in life ranging from resignation and passive acceptance to resistance and revolt.

In most instances it is only girls with sufficient awareness of their right s and law who have been brought up in a democratic family who tend to raise their voice against such injustices and are willing to fight it legally. This has nothing to do with their being spoilt or their inability to adjust although there may be a few cases where it is true. In most of the cases, it is because they find their self-respect and dignity compromised by putting up with such treatment. Lesser tolerance to any cruelty will only make a society fair and just and civilized and hence there should be more support for girls who have the courage to speak up against such violence.

But what is disheartening and disturbing about such cases which come to light is that despite belonging to the more privileged sections of society, many of these are cases of dowry harassment. Now there are laws in India prohibiting the demand for dowry and yet we have educated people occupying important positions indulging in the practice. In the case of the airhostess who committed suicide on jan 1, the parents have gone on record saying that they paid close to 25 lakhs in cash as dowry and now they claim that the suicide was caused by dowry harassment. Why did they get their daughter married to a family that demanded dowry – was that not a clear clue to them about the family into which they were sending their daughter to live? And aren’t her parents equally guilty of encouraging dowry by agreeing to the demand and paying it? And what about the girl - an educated girl, pretty to boot with a job – why did she allow herself to be traded with dowry? Why did she not have the courage to say ‘no’ to their dowry demands? Now the parents are raising their voice on the grounds of dowry harassment - where did their awareness of law and rights go when they agreed to the dowry demand and abetted in a culpable activity? Are the laws of the land to be flouted at will and invoked at will, when it suits us? If only they had said ‘no’ at the time of dowry demand they might have a daughter alive today. Albeit unmarried but happy. But today even if they see the husband and his parents behind bars, will it get them back their daughter?

As for other cases of cruelty in marriages, perhaps it is time we introduced a contract in Hindu marriages too like the ones in Islamic and Jewish weddings where the obligations of each party are spelt down and violation of its terms is sufficient cause for divorce. It is true that our mantras too speak of the obligations of a husband and wife but unfortunately they are a little dated and in any case no one understands them. Additionally contracts have the flexibility to incorporate some clauses according to the individual’s concerned based on their expectations from the marriage, their levels of tolerance to what may be construed as cruelty etc. It is all fine to take a romantic view and talk about marriage being a sacred bond which is not to be reduced to the level of a mere contract. But the minute dowry enters the equation, a marriage is already reduced to the level of a commercial transaction so people might as well make the transaction water-tight and secure by having a proper, legally-enforceable contract in place.
When two strangers marry, it takes a while for the sacred bond to develop. The contract will keep things on course at least until such time as it will clearly spell out what they are entering into even if they cannot comprehend the vows of the Saptapadi. With the relationship between the individual and society becoming more tenuous, a legal contract is certainly a better option. A contract might also serve as a starting point from where the couple learn to develop trust, love and respect for each other and work toward the sacred bond envisaged by the traditional marriage system. But for beginners. a contract could be like that extra wheel on the bicycle providing a safety net.

Rajalakshmi, the Great dane

2010-01-13T21:12:00.013+07:00

A few days ago I was startled by the hysterical barking of Munni and the utterly funny puppy barks of zoozoo and rushed to check on the provocation. A tall, beautiful great Dane was at the gate curiously peeping in unperturbed by all the ruckus. Looked like she was making a social call.I was surprised that she was all by herself unchaperoned and wondered if she had managed to escape and was lost. Then I spotted a woman a few feet away calling out to the dog. Must be the domestic help of the dog's owners. So I asked her : hesaru enu? meaning what’s the name?”
She said “Rajalakshmi”.

I have heard some funny improbable names for dogs. My own before Munni was named Sabapathy.
I remember the time we were trying to decide a name for Munni. One of the maids thought she was very beautiful and hence should be named Divya. The other one thought we should name her Venkatesha after her favorite deity's name! Ya, it didn’t occur to this other maid that the sex of the dogs needed to be considered while naming them. Even Zoozoo was called Ramu by the guys at the truck under which she had made her home initially but she was quite ready to wag her tail and run to them without a murmur of protest!
In fact I know some friends who smirk when we refer to our dogs as He and she. They feel all dogs deserve nothing more than “it’. So how does it matter if IT is named Divya or Ramu or thotho as babies call them? But some of us do take our dog's names quite seriously. My husband tells the story of an uncle who had named his dog after a boss he hated. He thought he could have his revenge by swearing at the dog and ordering it about using the boss’ name. The plan misfired when he began to love his dog and finally had to change the dog’s name. We are all familiar with Aaamir’s Shahrukh khan of course!

I tend to judge people by the names they give their dogs. I was so upset when I saw an Alsatian named Rosy that I wanted to steal the dog or report them to CUPA - well, this is nothing short of cruelty when you inflict a delicate name on an impressive dog resembling a lioness. Julie is a suitable name for a Pomeranian , not an Alsatian. So I was a bit distressed when this lady said that the Great dane's name was Rajalakshmi and shared it with my husband. He snapped: “That dog’s name is Cleo.”
I was a little confused and checked with her the next day. Turns out Rajalakshmi is HER name and the dog's name is, indeed, Cleo!
hmmmm, I must be losing it but isn't 51 a bit soon for senility?
But then I have always been a little precocious!

Outraging modesty

2010-01-11T23:00:00.012+07:00

With the justified uproar about the injustice in Ruchika’s case, ‘Outraging the modesty of a woman’ is a phrase that has dominated the media in the past few weeks. This term is taken from section 354 of the Indian penal code which says “Whosoever assaults or uses criminal force to any woman, intending to outrage or knowing it to be likely that he will thereby outrage her modesty, shall be punished with imprisonment of either description of term which may extend to two years or with fine, or with both.”

“outraging modesty?” Are there clear norms for what defines a woman’s modesty which are applicable across the board and are valid for all times? This law was framed 150 years ago. Society and women’s role in it have changed so much since that we may need to rethink what might be considered ‘modest’ behavior.

I remember an incident from childhood. I must have been about 10 and my friend who lived in the same street a few houses away was two years older than me. Those were the days when you had to go and collect your daily milk supply from the milk kiosks in every locality and so we used to go together around 6 a.m. The roads used to be quite deserted at that time but we never felt any fear. The compound of RKM main school extended to the first 50 meters of the road and on the other side it was the side compound wall of a huge bungalow. The houses of our street began after that. One morning as we turned into our street a guy walked up to us and squeezed my friend’s breasts and before we recovered from the shock, he had run away. From the next day it was her brother who went to get milk. And she started wearing a half saree. Clearly her parents decided that it was their fault in allowing her to go uncovered and this probably gave that lecherous lout the ‘right’ to molest her. I wrote about the half-saree and its role in our lives here.

But that was 1968. Societal attitudes were different. Such incidents were not to be made public and people preferred to hush them up and find more escapist methods to keep their girls safer from roving eyes and probing hands.
Today people are a lot more open about raising their voices in protest against such crimes against women as there is more awareness of the legal rights and more willingness to invoke them. So it was disgusting when on a TV discussion panel K.P.S.Gill said that section 354 is being misused by women. He said that what constitutes the definition of the law has to be seen in the context of the changes in society and viewed so he was not guilty of any misconduct. I cannot believe that a guy would pinch a colleague's rear and then have the impunity to justify it after having been pronounced guilty by the highest court of the land. Let us for a moment forget 'modesty' of women, is there a thing called 'shame' for this man?

It is true that it is tough to unequivocally define what constitutes the limits of modesty.
Some of the dictionary definitions of modesty are:
Having or proceeding from a disinclination to call attention to oneself; retiring or diffident.
Observing conventional proprieties in speech, behavior, or dress.
Free from showiness or ostentation; unpretentious.

So does this mean that a woman is immodest if she is not inhibited or if she dresses to attract attention? Ok even if it is so and she decides not to be ‘modest’ in the conventional sense, does it give any man the right to misbehave with her? Just because a woman dresses in a manner that flatters her figure, it doesn’t automatically constitute an invitation to touch her or feel her up, or does it? and who decides?

But sadly, this seems to be the popular opinion reinforced through popular cinema and fiction. It is a standard scene in many Tamil films even today where a rich, spoilt, girl in skimpy modern clothing is ragged and molested and made to conform to our cultural standards by becoming ‘modest’.
Here is an example of one such song:

The dance movements obviate the necessity of any translation of the lyrics but some lines definitely deserve a (rough) translation as they explain the societal attitude that accepts such behavior from a so-called ‘hero’.:
Pombalaiku venum acham madam nAnam
Illay enru ponale vambizhukka thonam
(A woman needs to have fear, innocence and shyness. Else people would be tempted to rag (her))
Oru ponnana kattupadanum Buddhi Sonnakka matupadanum
Apdi illena kashtapadanum Ille pinnale nashtapadanum
A woman should be bound by limits and be leveled by advice
Otherwise (she would have to) suffer or face loss)

Disgusting though the scene is, this is a standard scene from 80 percent of the films even today. Unfortunately these cannot be dismissed as ‘just filmy’ because successful films of these big heroes have enormous impact on the behavior and attitudes of young people especially among the less enlightened sections. Even college students consider such behavior ‘cool’. A woman’s ‘modesty’ is defined by her dress, mannerisms and speech. Very much the same as the dictionary definition:Observing conventional proprieties in speech, behavior, or dress.
It is this kind of indoctrination which makes people condone such behavior by men and assigns the blame to the girl when she is subjected to such harassment. It is always the girls fault even when she is the victim for having ‘provoked’ that kind of behavior.

Even if the definition of the phrase ‘outraging a woman’s modesty’ is subject to interpretation, it should not be too difficult for a ‘learned’ judge to see it according to the facts of the case rather than relying upon standard or hackneyed definition of the word 'modesty'. There is no denying that there may be some difficult cases. In big cities and liberal circles, not all touch is considered bad and in official and personal dealings hand shakes and friendly hugs are not uncommon. So it becomes a little tough for a woman to explain why a certain kind of touch outrages her while it is perfectly acceptable vis a vis another man. In such cases it is always her word against anybody else’s and should rightly be so. Modesty is such a personal thing that only she can say if she feels violated by a certain kind of behavior. And the issue is not even so much about 'modesty' as about anyone else having a 'right' to her body. Not even her close family have a right to it. This law is in serious need of change and rephrasing to include all kinds of acts which a woman feels creepy about or finds objectionable. What about those innuendos and double entendre statements?
Pending that reform, it should be entirely a woman's prerogative to define what she finds as a violation of her modesty. As long as the onus is on the woman to prove that she did not welcome such attention, it would be tough to deter out-of-control men from indulging in such bad behavior. In a just society, restraining such behavior should be by making the culprit fear the laws of the land and not by further curbing the rights of the victims. Is that such a complicated idea to consider?

Half plus seven and all that jazz

2009-12-03T21:26:00.011+07:00

Last night while surfing channels I heard a lady drop a pearl of wisdom in some program on a Hindi Channel. She was telling her daughter that since women tend to age faster, they should always marry someone older than them. When the girl tried to protest she authoritatively dismissed her saying “Now you won’t realize it. Twenty years down the line you will regret this.”
Memory flashed back to a time 40 years ago when we would receive letters from families of prospective brides for my uncle. Post-lunch we would open the envelopes, pass the photos around while one of us would read the letters aloud. Then the analysis would begin.
‘Girl’s features are lovely even though she is only wheat-ish” mother would begin
“Girl seems tall enough for the boy. 5.6 is a good height for a girl even though the boy is 6.1” an aunt would add.
‘Educated but not more than the boy which is good’ another relative would add
“All that is fine but she is just one year younger than the boy. That is a problem” grandma’s voice dripped disappointment.
“Why is it a problem Paati. She is still younger no even if it is just one year?” I asked.
“Girls tend to mature faster than boys. In a few years she will look older than him even though they are about the same age.” grandma explained.

It was a time when people did not attempt to defy age. They let nature take its course. They gained weight and wrinkles without worrying about them. By their mid thirties men were bald and paunchy and women gained a matronly frame and wore a silver crown. So they did not want a woman looking even older than her husband and ensured this through adequate age differences between the spouses.

There were also other reasons. Traditionally among Indian marriages, the wife was expected to look upon her husband as her ‘lord and master’ and our ancestors must have felt that this would be easier if the girl was younger than her husband. Men possessed more authority and wielded more power – all this was more easily achieved if the woman was younger and more quiescent. They tried to make sure that the woman was less qualified, younger, more docile. My father had a friend who had 3 sons and he and his wife were keen on finding brides who were not more than eighteen years of age. Their reasoning was that it would be easier to mould the girl to fit into their family structure if the girl was young. Those were times of joint families and the brides had to live under the same roof with their in-laws of various generations.
An aunt who is a gynecologist finds medical sense in this arrangement based on the psychological and physiological structure of the male and female of the species. According to her, emotionally women are capable of motherhood even by their late teens while men are not ready to accept fatherhood until their mid twenties. They also need this time to become financially self sufficient. A healthy age difference also ensures that their sexual drives reduce around the same time thereby avoiding the possibility of infidelity and associated mess. Apparently women lose their sex drive by the fifties and men around their sixties.

One of my aunts is 10 years her husband’s junior. At 80, he still considers her young. The 70 year old aunt complains “when do I get to be old?’ while she rubs oil on his feet for his arthritis. :) I wonder if she would have been happier to have been the older one and have a younger husband attending to her needs in her old age.

In today’s time the structure of family, the power balance between the man and his wife have changed considerably. They live together more in mutual respect than as a protector and protégé. Women take good care of themselves and there are enough aids to mask their age and look younger than they really are. In any case many women do not opt for early motherhood and usually have children only in their early thirties. They need to look at their career demands first and then fit in motherhood at a convenient time. Many opt not to have kids too. Marital relationships are more open and less inhibited in every way.

In this changed scenario, does age difference between a man and his wife still have any validity? Except for the wisdom from experience, a man or woman of 25 is as mature as a person of 40. I know a couple where the man is balding and out of shape at 30 but the woman is svelte and fit at 40 but people still have problems accepting their union and keep waiting for the day when the man would cheat on her and the marriage would fall apart. Terms such a Cougar and toy-boy are used cattily with reference to the relationship. But in my opinion they are a very happy couple who seem quite made for eachother. if at all anyone has a chance of finding another mate in this case, it is the woman and not the man. So all their predictions are simply born out of an inability to accept a reversal of an age-old tradition (pun intended)

So what are your thoughts? Is the difference required? Is it already changing? Are younger men marrying older women? Is age difference a consideration at all in today’s spousal equations?

Bali Notes

2009-11-29T15:49:00.036+07:00

A month ago I was contemplating a quiet vacation at a resort near Coimbatore and my cousin was looking for an exotic vacation. Somewhere during our conversations, the plans converged and we ended up booking tickets to Bali, Indonesia. (That should tell you a lot about me – starting toward Coimbatore and ending in Bali.) The travel agent proposed a package that included local sight-seeing which is always a sensible option to get a flavor of any new place but we decided against it. Because I don’t much care for running all over the place trying to see the important tourist destinations and my cousin is more of the lonelyplanet -type traveler. So we were on our own to find a place to stay and we decided to go with le Meridien’s Nirwana Golf & Spa resort based on some rave reviews on the net. And that wasn’t a decision I regretted.
I strongly recommend the place for two reasons : 1)It is right next to one of the must-see spots of Bali, the Tanah-Lot temple. You can simply sit in the lobby of the Hotel and watch the famous sunset that tourists to Bali travel all the way to see.
It is just a few minutes’ walk if you want to join them on the beach and watch the temples of Tanah-lot and Batu Bolong during a glorious sunset. Thereafter you could just walk around the place for a Kecak or Barong performance or shop in the local market or eat local food in one of the restaurants which is more authentic and way cheaper than eating at the resort.
2) The resort is very beautifully constructed – the buildings blend well into the natural background, every room has a beautiful view of the greenery all around and every spot is done up with great taste. Whichever spot you are, it offers a lovely view either of the sea or the trees or the pools or rocky ponds or the golf course. It is a perfect get-away for those who want to spend some quiet time alone with nature watching the sea change color from morning till night.
It boasts of one of the country’s best 18 hole golf courses and has won quite a few awards for the same. The restaurants are good, staff are very friendly and helpful. It is expensive even at the off-season rate of $105 per night (incl. taxes but excl. breakfast) but that is probably the price you need to pay for all the beauty it offers.. And if you can get your company to pay for this it is a win-win all the way! As the name indicates, it also has a well appointed Spa with professional services.

The first thing you notice on arriving at the Ngurah Rai international airport is the long queue at the immigration and the fact that the officials don’t seem too worried about it. There are just 4 officials on duty although there are 16 counters. (Of course if you are like me the first thing you would notice would be the name of the airport and how you pronounce ng at the beginning of a word.) For an island that thrives on tourism you would expect a little more enthusiasm about welcoming tourists. Or perhaps this is a typical Hindu approach to life as 93% of the people in Bali are Hindus.
Visa is on arrival (for most countries) and the fee for 7 days’ stay is 10 dollars. We handed in a hundred dollar bill and received a balance of 7,20,000 rupiahs. Yes the exchange rate is about 9100 rp to the dollar and I instantly knew I was going to have trouble handling this money for the next few days. And I was right. More about that later.
It was a long ride from Denpasar to Tanah-lot which gave us the opportunity to get used to the island. On the way we saw a few large sculptures depicting scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharatha and many Hindu temples blending Hindu and Buddhist styles of temple architecture. The pillars looked very Hindu while the roofs in many places were like the Pagodas in Buddhist temples. Bali has many skilled sculptors and along the way we saw shops with huge statues of Buddha, Ganesha, Shiva, Brahma, wishnu and Saraswati. They believe in the trimurtis but the variety of Hinduism practiced in Bali is quite different from its Indian parent as it is a mixture of myths, rituals, ancestor worship and belief in black magic. Native animism is interwoven with Hindu and Buddhist beliefs. You must wear a sarong and sash while visiting a temple although you are permitted to go in with footwear, Mensturating women are not allowed inside and you cannot enter the temple when you are 'Impure' (?)
Every house has an ornate pillar called Padmasan with a niche for offerings which are done three times a day. Daily offering consists of flowers, cooked rice and meat on hand made coconut leaf trays On special days the offerings are more elaborate. Additionally they also a have a temple within the family compound with several Padmasans each with a designated purpose – one for storing the ashes of ancestors, one for offering to gods, one for offering grains after harvest and so on. Birth, death and marriages have special rituals as do special festivals like the new year and harvest festival. Galungan is an important festival which celebrates the triumph of Good over Evil. This seems the theme of much of their culture as their various dance forms like Barong and Kecak are also based on the same theme. These folk dances are very beautiful and performed in the temple complexes. The stories are a bit difficult to comprehend with their symbolism and mysticism but the performances are very elegant and captivating.The hotel runs shuttles two times a day to Kuta, Ubud and Semanyak from where one could take private or public transport to other places of interest. We tried to look for the government tourism office in Kuta and many sounded like they heard the name for the first time and ended up directing us to private tourist operators. It is a good idea to ask for directions at the polis (police) stations and when they say traffic signal it could just be a junction with no signals. Most people speak a form of broken English which is easy to follow once you use common sense to fill up the gaps. After a relentless struggle of about 45 minutes in the hot mid day sun we did manage to find the tourism office. They gave us maps and some information on important places to see but there are no government operated tours. All tours are organized by private operators or you could hire taxis on an hourly or daily basis.
The hotel charges 84 dollars for 8 hours for an air-conditioned car with driver. If you need a guide that would be charged separately. If you are lucky you might have a driver who can double up as a sort of guide. This is why it might be a good idea to sign up for a package which might work out cheaper and would cover the important places of tourist interest.
Alternatively you could choose to visit the important temples, the botanical garden, volcano Batur and Batur lake, Agung mountain, the monkey forest or the terraced rice fields at Tegallalang.
Wherever you go you are assured of a great view of the lush greenery either from the rice fields or the tall dense trees that line the roads all the way to the destination. Completely free, no extra charge!!There are plenty of options for water sporting activities. After all of which, you could relax with a nice body massage or foot reflexiology; Or you could just sit quietly on the beach and communicate with the sea if you do not want to go anywhere.

Markets are best avoided as you could get lured to see some of their wares and end up getting terribly overcharged. Handling prices with so many zeros is a huge problem for me and I realized that I had paid 70 dollars for stuff that I could have got at an equivalent of 1000 rupees. The story repeated every time I tried to buy something. And there were times I was happily handing over a 100000 rupiah note where I was required to pay 10000.

A note on private money changers. You find them all over the markets offering you higher rates of exchange than Banks and the likes of Western Union. At one place in Kuta the guy managed to swindle 200000 (20 dollars) from the payment due to me by cleverly distracting me. Luckily I noticed it and when I returned to confront him he gave me the money without denying too much saying “ It is a mistake uh Sorry uh. You Hindu. Me Hindu. I don’t cheat you uh.”
Ok, whatever… as long as I get my money back.
They are very good at selling things, these people. Women will tell you “just look. I make good price for you” and quote you a price 5 times the value of the item. Or they will say “Morning price for good luck. Very cheap”. Small kids will sweetly ask you “will buy something from me?” Make sure that you never buy anything without bargaining and usually they will come down to about 1/5th of the price originally quoted. That is wisdom for you from a shopper who lost about 60 dollars in stupid shopping for unwanted stuff. There are many artists around Ubud practising sculpting, wood carving, painting, batik printing, jewelry making etc. They are exquisite and expensive.
Food is good and cheap in the smaller restaurants but choice is limited if you are vegetarian. Nasi campur vegetarian and Gado gado are good. Try the Balinese Bumba vegetarian platter if you get a chance. They have a great variety of tropical fruits which I tasted for the first time – Salat, dragon fruit, passion fruit , Rambutan, mangosteen and Cocoa fruit. Food at the resort is good but very expensive. It is a more sensible option to have the buffet breakfast at the resort and have lunch and dinner at the restaurants in town.

The weather was hot and humid with temperatures hovering in the early 30s and a humidity level of 55%. It might have been beautiful had it rained but rains are not expected this year until December. Island rains are just beautiful exposing you to the full fury of the elements.
Houses have elaborate carvings on the outer walls, wooden doors and pillars. There are several wings within the same compound with a common courtyard. Each couple have a separate wing for their beds and belongings with the common kitchen and dining space forming one wing. There is a common family temple within the compound with several pillars designated for different purposes. Agricultural families also have a granary called Lumbung within the compound.

Balinese Hindus have a caste system with 4 groups : Brahmana, Satrias, Wesiya and Sudra but there are no social discriminations and intermarriages are common. But there are different temples for each caste group. Local communities have a lot of power in social and religious matters. Partha, one of the bearers at the resort restaurant had a red thread around his waist. When we asked him what it was for he said that someone had stolen something from their local temple. The community believes that the Gods have been angered by this and so all members have a red thread tied around their wrists for their protection. They have many such superstitions. The Padmasans in the houses and temples are dressed in sarongs with black and whiye checks as a protection from black magic or evil. Holy water is used for protection and purification. The temple performances of Kecak and Barong which we watched started with prayer and ended with the priest appearing and splashing holy water on all the dancers.

Strong religious beliefs and superstitions keep the people in smaller towns tied to traditional ways of life while cities like Denpasar are more drab and dull wearing the commercial look of modern cities.We noticed the same kind of lethargy and lassitude in the airport procedures on the way back. The airport facilities are rather basic reminding us of some of our own airports. There is a departure fee of 150000 rp. per person which interestingly is more than the visa fee of 10 dollars.
There is a lot that you do not understand in Bali but if you don’t try to, it can be a very beautiful and relaxing experience.

Unfriending is official now

2009-11-18T10:41:00.007+07:00

Unfriending just got formal recognition – The new Oxford American Dictionary has announced it as the word of the year. For the uninitiated,
unfriend – verb – To remove someone as a ‘friend’ on a social networking site such as Facebook.
Although the word may be new, as a concept ‘unfriending’ is not something new, at least not to those who grew up in India. The Tamil word for it is ‘Kaa’. Children unfriend each other by simply telling them ‘I am Kaa with you. You are not my friend anymore.’ I think Hindi-speaking children use “katti’ for this. Kaa or katti is the most dreaded word I remember from my childhood. Imagine your best friend or a group of classmates declaring ‘kaa’ on you. It is the children's version of imposing sanctions - they won’t speak to you and you cannot play with them, share crayons or books or snacks and you are left out of all their secrets. For me and my friends there was no fate worse than being told ‘kaa’ by one’s best friend. It was the end of the world.

In primary school, breaking news usually took the form of hushed whispers about who was ‘Kaa’ with whom. And we had to choose our loyalties and keep to that side. Fence sitters were disowned by both groups. If our friend was ‘Kaa’ with another girl, the entire group was ‘kaa’ with her. It did not matter that we were not part of the fight. What mattered was loyalty and at that age friends ranked a notch above family, society and nation. If any girl violated this code and had any dealings with the other camp she was promptly unfriended too.
Sometimes unfriending was the result of a personal quarrel or the fact that a girl was ‘too proud’ or if she refused to share something with you. At other times it was a group decision because the subject had offended someone in the group. Once in the 5th standard we had unfriended a girl who happened to be the niece of one of our teachers. After a few weeks of this, the girl could not stand it and went crying to her aunt about our ‘meanness’ and so the teacher instituted an inquiry. She called each one of us and asked us why we had unfriended her niece and none of us knew why. Someone in our group had unfriended her and so we all had. And even the girl who had started it had forgotten the reason by this time! So we were all given a lecture on our shameful behavior and asked to ceremoniously ‘refriend’ the girl by shaking hands. We still continued to unfriend whenever the situation demanded it but were careful not to get caught.

‘unfriending’ through “kaa’ was left behind as childhood ended and adult life began. In adult life friends stayed on in your life no matter what. You quarreled, stopped talking but then ran to their side the moment you heard they were in trouble. They did the same too. And then came the internet and changed the whole meaning of friendship.
You meet people in a chatroom or leave a comment on their blog and the next thing you know there is a request from them to add you on Gchat or yahoo chat. You are confused but you accept the invitation anyway. They want to chat with you every time you are online, send you jokes, event notifications, cute forwards, discussion threads from them and their friends as you are part of their group mailing list. And then one day they stop. Just. like.that. And they become invisible on chat too. I have never figured out why I keep getting thrown out of these groups. While I’d have been perfectly happy if they hadn’t made me part of their group, it hurts just a little bit when they suddenly decide to unfriend without so much as a goodbye as memories of childhood "kaa' come flooding! When I wondered about this to a young friend he said that it is very normal among friendships in the virtual world which tend to die down fast. People move on, they lose interest and form other groups and it has nothing to do with me personally.
I was not totally convinced and he forwarded me this article
In dec 2008, Burger king offered free whoppers to people who unfriended 10 of their friends on facebook and thousands were willing to grab the offer. As this article pointed out
At a suggested retail price of $3.69 for the Angry Whopper sandwich, customers are trading each deleted friend for about 37 cents’ worth of bun and beef.

I asked someone the other day if X was her friend. She said, 'hmm, ya but not a friend-friend but just a facebook friend."
Friend – there was a time when this word invoked images of undying loyalty, true understanding an unconditional acceptance. Friendship once ranked at the top of the relationship chain as the most enduring value immortalized in stories such as those of Damon and Pythius, Duryodhan and Karna, Krishna and Arjuna. It seemed that a friend would be that person whom you could turn to when everything else is lost. I wonder if such friendships are ever possible on such social networking sites. Perhaps it is time they found another word for a facebook acquaintance rather than devaluing the sanctity of the word friend – how about the term Facebooker? Then you can become friends by facebooking and ‘unbook’ them when you lose interest.
Or is unfriending here to stay as a sign of our times?

Demand for change

2009-11-11T19:50:00.016+07:00

I remember a scene from a Tamil film I had seen some years ago . Two friends get off an auto and one of them takes out a 500 rupees note and the auto driver graces him with an expletive he has developed precisely for such people indicating he cannot exchange it. So the other friend pays. Then they stop at a roadside tea shop for tea and bananas where again friend A flashes his 500 note and friend B pays. This is repeated several times in various places and friend B ends up spending more than 500 during the scene while the man with the 500 rupee note smiles smugly, offering to pay everywhere absolutely certain that his note would be rejected in favor of smaller notes. The scene was funny but I thought it was far from reality. Until this Sunday …
This Sunday I decided to spend a few hours in the garden re-potting my plants. Since I was alone in the house, it seemed a good idea to pack breakfast from a Darshini restaurant nearby. Tempted by the smell of assorted items of South Indian breakfast and drooling at the thought of a vada, dosa and steaming tea for breakfast I extended a 500 rs note to the cashier who promptly returned it demanding "40. No change”. And he quickly moved to take the next order. Not having any other denominations, I had to go away savoring just the thoughts of what could have been a delicious breakfast on a wet, wintry Sunday morning in Bengaluru. Banishing the dosa from my thoughts, I walked into the neighborhood bakery to pick up some bread and eggs . Again my 500 rupee note was rejected with contempt but the owner knows me and so he packed them asking me to pay him later.
I can understand when very small business people like vegetable vendors and flower vendors do not carry change with them as their daily sales is often just enough for them to feed their family and replenish their stock, if it is a good day. So they normally start business every day with their stock and an empty cash box. But I don’t see why we should be turned away for lack of change from restaurants and bakeries. Judging from the crowd at the said restaurant I am pretty sure that they do a few thousands worth of business in a day. Perhaps it was too early in the day to change 500 rs notes. But it does not make any business sense to turn away customers because they do not have smaller denominations.

It is the same in buses, auto rickshaws, counters at railway stations – they never have change and in some places there is even a board saying “please tender exact change”. It is not the seller but the buyer who has to carry change and smaller denominations. I suspect that it is not because they cannot change larger denominations but it is to avoid the possibility of errors in the transaction resulting in loss of cash. Having to count and recount the balance to be returned also means extra time for the transaction which they seem to want to avoid especially in crowded counters like the ones selling platform tickets at stations.

Collecting smaller denominations, particularly coins is a challenge too. There is a general reluctance towards returning smaller change even in supermarkets as they have started rounding it to the lower or higher rupee. Auto rickshaw drivers round it to the nearest 5 rupees in Bengaluru. If the meter displays 25 and if you hand over thirty , the driver would happily drive away unless you insist on the balance. And even when he does, he would do so with obvious unhappiness and definitely not without one last bid at retaining it by grumbling that he would have to go empty till the nearest auto stop. Suggesting that it is our fault that we don’t live next to the nearest auto stop. I have heard it so many times that these days I stop at the auto stop and walk 200 meters to my house.
Then there are people who don’t expect to keep the change but they’d rather pay it in kind. My vegetable vendor would give me a lemon or some coriander if he has to return 2 rs, my baker would give me 2 candies instead of 1 re and the flower lady would add a few inches to the string of flowers to round it up; or she would give me a rose.
Unless one uses cash at the supermarkets, it is not easy to collect smaller denominations. Most ATMs also dispense only 100s or 500s. I have tried asking shopkeepers to change a hundred rupee note without buying anything and they refuse to entertain such crazy requests. Other than going to a bank where I hold account, I cannot I think of a way I can change a 100 or 500 rupee note. As for coins, I still don’t know how people manage to collect them unless they have some deal with the priest at a temple nearby.

I have been surprised at how cashiers in supermarkets abroad always give the exact balance without complaint and without short changing. Is it because they value the penny as much as the pound? It is more likely that there is some legal implication if they fail to return exact change. I am not sure if I can drag a shopkeeper to court in this country for refusing to give me change. Even if there is some law in my favour, the whole legal battle might leave me short changed in the end. More importantly, does anyone care about small change? A college girl told me the other day that she did not mind not getting it back as long as it was less than 5 rs. No wonder the auto driver gives me a contemptuous look when I demand my 5 rs back. He doesn’t realize that I need to stock up on smaller denominations if I want my dosa next Sunday morning apart of course from the fact that it is my right to have the balance back.

An interesting article here on the coin crisis in Argentina leading to an ironic situation. Thanks Sid!

An idea worth pondering

2009-10-22T13:03:00.001+07:00

A couple of years ago I met a lady from France who was visiting India. It was a journey in search of her roots as her mother is a third generation Indian from Mauritius and like most Indians outside the country she preserves, cherishes and values her Indianness and takes great pride in our culture. This girl had just been through a personal tragedy which had led her into a phase of introspection. This trip was a quest in search of answers to some of her personal questions and re-evaluation of her priorities. Having heard her mother talk about the values and ideals central to Hinduism and the principles that governed a Hindu ways of life, she was keen to find out if business gurus and corporates in India had evolved standards and practices rooted in this culture. According to her, western business models were rooted in greed and lacked principles and their only standard was success by all means at all times. Having headed a company herself, she felt that it was a defective model where success did not always guarantee happiness. She had been highly successful in her career but that hadn’t given her true happiness, she said.
In the short time she was here, we had many enjoyable conversations comparing the western and Indian ways of life. She mentioned a report with the finding that nearly one in four French people are on tranquillizers, antidepressants, antipsychotics or other mood-altering prescription drugs. I found this disturbing but I was a little confused when she attributed it to the loss of belief in God. She seemed to suggest that Faith could be an effective substitute for tranquillizers, antidepressants, antipsychotics and I found it difficult to make the connection.

I finally understood her point only a few days ago when I heard this lecture by eminent author Alain de botton:

in the middle ages, in England, when you met a very poor person, that person would be described as an "unfortunate." Literally, somebody who had not been blessed by fortune, an unfortunate. Nowadays, particularly in the United States, if you meet someone at the bottom of society, they may, unkindly, be described as a "loser." There is a real difference between an unfortunate and a loser. And that shows 400 years of evolution in society, and our belief in who is responsible for our lives. It's no longer the gods, it's us. We're in the driving seat.
That's exhilarating if you're doing well, and very crushing if you're not. It leads, in the worst cases, in the analysis of a sociologist like Emil Durkheim, it leads to increased rates of suicide. There are more suicides in developed individualistic countries than in any other part of the world. And some of the reason for that is that people take what happens to them extremely personally. They own their success. But they also own their failure.

Is that why people need God? As someone who has the power we lack – to make things alright, to work miracles, to make possible whatever seems impossible to us? So that we can still have hope even when Reason tells us that nothing more can be done to make the situation better? Is that why it was necessary to invent Him in the first place? To help us handle our success and failure with equanimity by shifting responsibility?
Today we have a lot more in terms of possessions, comforts and avenues to be happy and yet people are more discontented and unhappy than the earlier generations. Success and happiness seem like mirages which people keep chasing until eventually they die unhappy. Is God the answer? What about those who have outgrown belief in God that it is impossible to go back? In matters of faith, once doubt creeps in however slight, it is never again possible to go back to unquestioning belief.

Botton’s answer is different. He argues that we simply need to re-evaluate our definitions of success and failure.

And one of the interesting things about success is that we think we know what it means. If I said to you that there is somebody behind the screen who is very very successful, certain ideas would immediately come to mind. You would think that person might have made a lot of money, achieved renown in some field. ...
Here's an insight that I've had about success. You can't be successful at everything. We hear a lot of talk about work-life balance. Nonsense. You can't have it all. You can't. So any vision of success has to admit what it's losing out on, where the element of loss is. And I think any wise life will accept as I say, that there is going to be an element where we are not succeeding.
And the thing about a successful life, is a lot of the time, our ideas of what it would mean to live successfully, are not our own...
And we also suck in messages from everything from the television, to advertising, to marketing, etc. These are hugely powerful forces That define what we want, and how we view ourselves. When we're told that banking is a very respectable profession a lot of us want to go into banking. When banking is no longer so respectable, we lose interest in banking. We are highly open to suggestion.
So what I want to argue for, is not that we should give up on our ideas of success. But we should make sure that they are our own. We should focus in on our ideas. And make sure that we own them, that we are truly the authors of our own ambitions. Because it's bad enough, not getting what you want. But it's even worse to have an idea of what it is you want, and find out at the end of a journey, that it isn't, in fact, what you wanted all along.

I found it a truly inspiring and insightful lecture. Things they don't teach in the universities but ought to.Ideas that young people should consider before they get sucked into the rat race. Perhaps they could then find a way to be successful and happy as their struggle would not be to meet someone else’s definition of success but their own.

musings over one shtrong kaapi

2009-06-25T07:21:00.014+07:00

Food, for me, was Tamil Brahmin cuisine for a very long time. In my family, the people who claimed that they were not very rigorous about their food preferences only meant that they even ate Bisibelebaat or Palakkad cuisine sometimes. In this milieu, I felt like a radical extremist since I enjoyed 'north Indian' food and was even willing to go without rice for a couple of meals. If you are younger than 30, I must tell you that this was a huge step for a Tam in the seventies. Of course I have written about this before.

And then I boarded a Pan Am flight in 1986 for my first ever trip abroad lasting two and a half months. Just the American accent was enough to intimidate me those days; it was worse because on this flight, for the leg till Frankfurt, the flight attendants were mostly European. They hardly smiled, spoke English like German and looked like they would throw you out of the window if they didn't like you. And it was pretty clear they didn't like anyone on this flight full of noisy, unruly Indians. Seated next to me was a couple from Gujarat . They seemed like seasoned travelers. At meal time they were served an Indian meal while everything on my plate looked unfamiliar except large leaves of cabbage (actually lettuce). I couldn't believe that this passed off as lunch in any language. I timidly requested the flight attendant for the same meal as the Gujarati couple.
'Sorry ma'm, it's all we 've got.'
My travel agent had missed to mention my meal preference!

I did not realize that this was just the beginning of the horror story until I had to suffer meal after meal of burger (with the meat removed), French fries and coleslaw on the days we traveled. I had a choice of staying in the apartment and having rice with baked beans or yoghurt or stay hungry and travel. We traveled and took pictures before every monument and tourist attraction until finally I was happy to come back home to proper meals. No wonder I only have hazy memories of that trip and don't recognize the monuments I am standing in front of.

Twenty years later I traveled again to this country and this time it was all very different. I was prepared to try exotic food ( as long as it had no meat) and they served me Pulao and Rajma for dinner and idli and upma for breakfast on a Lufthansa flight. In Seattle I stayed with my cousin who made sure that there was Sambar and curried vegetable at every meal. When we went out we ate at Udupi restaurants serving Puri/bhaji and Masala Dosa!
Thanks to the IT revolution and Y2k problem in no small measure I suppose! India had arrived - it was now a real country with real people and real food and not just some land of sadhus and snakes, where people had OM for breakfast and meditated! Airlines cared for the Indian traveler and his meal preferences. You didn't have to suffer Air India just for their food. You could buy and make Indian food right here -it was available and affordable.

But still there was one thing that I missed - Tea. Starbucks had one type of sweet tea and in the tearooms we were presented with a menu of several choices of herbal, green and black teas. While they had great snob value and assured ego-satisfaction, all I craved for was a nice Masala Chai. I was even willing to try Coffee with little luck. Yes, in the land of Starbucks we missed COFFEE - South Indian coffee. Starbucks gave us choices like we never had before and they were willing to make it all just the way we wanted. Only we didn't want any of it because they were either too strong or too watery, or too frothy or too hot. In every case it was too much - even the smallest cup ( whose idea was it to call a small cup 'tall'?) was a lot and we always ended up wasting more than half. Something was missing and it did not feel like the coffee back home even when we picked up coffee powder from the Indian shop. May be the chicory content.

How do the South Indians manage without their daily dose of South Indian Filter coffee, I wondered. My cousin did not care for coffee or tea but I am sure that is not the case with the other million or two out there. You can take a Tamilian or a Kannadiga to Starbucks but you cannot make him drink the coffee for sure? Or had they resigned to their fate, admitted defeat and prepared their palates to an acquired taste for one or other of the Starbucks coffee? Or were they getting their coffee supplies from India regularly? It was a mystery till the time I boarded the flight back to Bangalore and I made mental note to pack a few boxes of Lipton tea if I traveled to this country again.

Last month I was packing again to come to this country when my son asked me to get a coffee filter. He said he was tired of Starbucks coffee and wanted ‘our coffee’ in the mornings. So I asked him if he wanted some coffee powder too. He said “No. My friend Soundari has experimented with the coffee available here and discovered that a combination of Ethiopian Sidamo and Sumatra coffee (1:1)from Starbucks ground to a fine blend ("Turkish" grind for electric filter) tastes exactly like the coffee you get in Chennai.’
JUGAD, wow! I should have known – the true Indian spirit! I should have guessed!
And to answer your question, yes she is right. I even wrote this post while sipping on a strong cup of the blend that tastes just like the 'one shtrong filter kaapi' at my local SLV restaurant. Thank you Soundari.
So what is your favorite blend to get your coffee just the way your mom makes it?

Remembering the half -saree

2009-05-31T13:49:00.017+07:00

Half-saree was still the official dress for most teenagers in Madras in the early 70s. (Pic courtesy:Kenny Wordsmith.)
Girls from liberal families wore western clothing. Salwar-kameezes were still not very popular. Mass produced salwar sets hadn’t begun flooding the market and local tailors lacked the skill to stitch them. Plump heroines in Tamil films sported tight versions of this 'north Indian' dress in duet songs which emphasized their fake breasts and fat thighs so much that they were definitely not a favorite with middle-class parents. I am pretty positive that I could have persuaded my conservative parents to let me wear a loose kurta over jeans rather than one of those salwar suits.

When I was growing up, middle class parents had just one rule by which they decided what their girls could wear. Anything that did not show off their shape in a flattering light was acceptable. I am reminded of my friend Anuradha who was an irrepressible rebel. When we were about 14, she wanted to wear tee shirts over her trousers which set off a volcano in her house. After losing the fight she told us “My mother thinks it is my fault I have breasts”. We laughed but soon I began to notice a similar subtext in the statements that my grandmother or mother made about how a woman is supposed to carry herself or walk. ‘Don’t push your chest outside. walk modestly’. When we were in class 7 and 8, the class teacher would have a talk with some of the girls and a few days later they would come wearing half-sarees. This went on till we reached class 9 when half-saree was compulsory for everyone. We experienced freedom only on the games field where we were allowed to wear divided skirts and a loose shirt. Otherwise we hid the contours of our frame behind 3 metres of cloth which covered us over the long skirt and long blouse.

When I was about 18 an older friend asked me if I had ever seen myself in the mirror without clothes and I was shocked that she could talk like that. Of course I had not. And I was not sure I could even do it because there was a kind of shame and fear associated with one’s body . It was safer behind those layers of clothing. But in college there were many times that I wished I could wear western clothing and ‘belong’ to the hep crowd. Many of us wished we were flatter so we could venture beyond the half-sari and wear smart western clothing. Like Anuradha said it seemed that it was our fault that we had breasts.

Looking back I can laugh at these memories. There was a time when I would have cringed to use the word ‘breast’ in public and here I am writing about it in a public blog. Our perception of our body and exposure norms have changed a lot in these 3 decades. Today people have no hesitation about flaunting their cleavages or wearing tight clothing to show off their shape and size. Breast implants and enhancement procedures have become as common as laser treatment for excess hair. I laugh thinking of the time when we would have been happy to delay the growth of mammaries just to be free from the restrictions that society around us imposed on us.
The dhavani or half-saree symbolized our suppression or lack of pride in our forms.
I didn't realize that there would come a time when I'd actually be grateful for the concept of a half-saree.

On friday, there was a documentary on national geographic channel on body modifications in different cultures and times . They showed the neck rings used by the Kayan tribe of Tibeto_burmese origin now living in Thailand.
and the footbinding custom that was prevalent in China for a long time.
While the former is largely voluntary and footbinding is not prevalent anymore, I was shocked to learn hear about a practice called breast-ironing practised in western Africa.
Breast ironing is exactly what it says - the flattening of a young girls’ breasts with a hot and heavy wooden rod or stone to push the breast muscles back in order to delay their development. YOu can see in the picture some of the tools used in the process and they are usually heated before applying on the breast
But why this brutality? Mothers subject their daughters to this barbarity in order to delay breast growth in their daughters in order to prevent rape and early marriage. Even when they feel their pain, they think it is for their own good in the long run.

"Before this breast band, my mother used the grinding stone—heated in the fire—to massage my chest. Every night my mother examines my chest (and) massages me, sometimes with the pestle," Matia adds. "Although I cry hard because of the pain, she tells me: 'Endure, my daughter; you are young and there is no point in having breasts at your age'."
Josaine Matia, 11 years old
Yaounde, Cameroon

This is precisely what I saw in the visual in the documentary and the victim didn’t even look like she was 11.
Read on more here:
www.unfpa.org/16days/documents/pl_breakironing_factsheet.doc

The study also gives the following facts:

Some 24 per cent of girls in Cameroon, about one girl in four, undergo breast ironing.
Breast ironing occurs extensively in the 10 provinces throughout Cameroon.sample survey published in January 2006 of 5000 girls and women aged between 10 and 82 in Cameroon, estimates that 4 million women had suffered the process.
Today, 3.8 million teenagers are threatened with the practice.
Up to 53 per cent of women and girls interviewed in the coastal Littoral province in the southeast, where the country's main port, Douala, is situated, admit to having had their breasts 'ironed'.
More than half (58 per cent) of cases breast ironing were undertaken by mothers. Other relatives also participate

.

The documentary was traumatic. It brought back memories of my own childhood and the difficulty in coming to terms with the changes in one’s own body made more difficult by the society’s ideas about a woman’s body at that time - that the more attractive it is, the more vulnerable it made its owner to predatory males. Men could not be trusted to obey rules so it was the woman’s responsibility not to attract their attention.
The ideas themselves were not very different from those of the Cameroon mothers. And I am grateful that in my culture they came up with the half-saree as the solution even though a wooden pestle was readily available in my ancestor’s backyard too.

Here's a video on the subject:
http://current.com/items/88852332_breast-ironing.htm
(Thanks Praveen.)

Plastic dosham and pollution karma

2009-05-04T17:05:00.019+07:00

It was around 8:30 a.m yesterday. I was making the second cup of tea of the day for me. This tea needs be absolutely perfect for my day to go well. You see the first cup is like a quick fix after 14 hours of caffeine withdrawal and it is required to get the brain cells started in the morning. I gulp it down while multitasking – getting things ready for breakfast, boiling milk, cutting fruit or glancing through the newspaper headlines. But the second one – this follows breakfast when the morning chores are complete and I have the house entirely to myself having seen people off to work.. Now no compromises on this one. The colour has to be the right shade of brown – a little darker than ochre and a shade lighter than russet to be precise - with the right amount of sugar to set off the bitterness of the tea and enhance its taste and the temperature has to be perfect . Total ZEN. Ask me for anything after this and it is yours.

So it is important that I stay focused while making it because even a few seconds this way or that way can spoil it all and ruin my day. Now my architect was thoughtful enough to place a couple of windows in my kitchen in strategic angles so I can get a view of what goes on in the street while I am in the kitchen. So I was making tea and looking through the one that gives me a clear view of the crossroad junction at the beginning of my road and presently a young girl came in view – jeans, a short red kurta and red stole. About 19 or 20, definitely in college or just out of college. I saw her glance in all directions as she approached the junction and I thought she was looking for an auto to hire. The road was quite empty at this time on a Sunday morning. And she turned toward the pavement. Now I am familiar with men doing it all the time in preparation of using the road as a public toilet but this was a girl, a well-dressed young one and I decided that this can’t be her intention. I kept watching as she took out a plastic carry-bag from her purse, pulled out a coconut and broke it on a stone on the road. I have no clue what this was about as I have only seen people break coconuts outside temples. May be some kind of superstition – a way to get rid of evil spirits. No problem. Coconuts are bio-degradable. A cow might even eat it for breakfast. So I had no issues with that.

But what she did next, that was unpardonable. No less than all those crass men urinating on the roads. She started crossing the road pretending that someone else had broken the coconut there and casually tossed the plastic bag on to the middle of the road . Now this really got my goat. An 'educated young girl' throwing a 'plastic' bag in the 'middle' of the 'road'. Too many unforgivables. And the nonchalance with which she did it suggested that she was n’t even aware of what she was doing. As if that was just the way one is supposed to dispose bags after their utility is over!
I wanted to catch her by her red stole and drag her back and make her pick it up. But unfortunately, by the time I turned off the stove and managed to reach my gate she had gone past two houses. I clapped my hands and shouted ‘hellooooooooo’ but she did not hear it or ignored me leaving me to seethe over my second cup which was ruined in any case.

I do not know if I might have been less angry if she had at least shown some signs of guilt while throwing the bag in that manner or tried to do it stealthily like the way she looked around while breaking the coconut. No, she tossed it confidently as if she was flicking off a leaf from her kurta and walked on. This apathy is more dangerous. And this apathy from a younger, educated person is even more disgusting.. When I take a walk in our neighborhood park, sometimes I see small kids throwing biscuit wrappers around. They don’t know better, so I tell them to use the garbage basket. Usually they are brought there by young girl-maids who take care of them and they don’t know better either due to their lack of education. But at least they comply when you tell them a couple of times. But what do you do with people who know that they are not supposed to do it and still do it because they could not care less or there is no real penalty for doing it. Perhaps it is a good idea to have fines for littering the way countries like Singapore have. You try to reason with our ‘educated’ people and tell them why it is important to preserve our environment they don’t care. They always want someone else to do it all before they can do their bit. But tell them that there is a fine and they will fall in line. But then again enforcement of any rule or law is always a problem in this country.

Is it something new or is it part of our psyche – a part of being Indian? Was this the reason why our ancestors invented punishments by Gods when you violated rules and codes of conduct?
‘You are to keep your surroundings clean – otherwise the Goddess of wealth would be annoyed and decide against living in your house.’
‘You are not to waste food because it is an insult to Goddess Lakshmi who would curse you to a life of hunger.’
I thought that all this was to instill a sense of discipline among people who lacked the privilege of education and the ability to reason. But education doesn’t really seem to make a difference especially when people are so selfish and apathetic and cannot see beyond the tip of their noses. We need culture-specific solutions to these global problems. Tell an average Indian that it is bad for your environment. he can't understand why it concerns him/her. But tell him that it is bad for his family and fortunes, he will sit up and act."Only a threat to them and theirs and their material well-being will work with these people to shake them to do something for common good.

I am sure that is the thing that a crossroads-coconut-breaker would relate to. Had someone told her that there is a ’dosham’ for using plastic or throwing it on the street, she might have be terrified about throwing it. I have always lobbied for getting rid of superstitions but if that is the language people understand I am all for inventing and popularising a few of them – some dosham for indiscriminate use of plastic and bad karma for littering and for spitting which would follow you up to seven births or some such thing. I am sure the message will hit home. We just need to get a few swamijis to collaborate and we can have a clean country in no time.
We have so many of them already – a couple more can’t hurt especially if they help to save this planet. We seem to have so many rituals for pleasing other planets which are supposed to control our lives while forgetting the only planet that matters, this mother earth which is our home.

Vanaprastha* for the 21st century

2009-04-28T08:59:00.011+07:00

My uncle lives in a community of, for and by retired people in South India where they live in private apartments and all their daily needs such as food, housekeeping, and medical care are provided by the community and charged for. He is 72 and suffers from severe hip and spine problems that force him to be confined to his bed for weeks at a time. Rest of the time he is well enough not to depend on anyone to get by. His wife is 64 and has bronchial problems. Her mother who is 94 stays with them. She is perhaps in better health than both of them except that she is weak due to her age. It is a sensible arrangement they have chosen as both their sons work and live abroad and here their days go by without having to worry about daily irritants in terms of house help and other logistics. But then there are times when they could do with some support from younger members of the family and their non-availability hits home hard.

Last month my aunt had to undergo Coronary artery by-pass surgery and she almost decided against the operation because there was no one around to help her during the post-operative phase and she was worried about leaving her mother alone without any help. Given the economic conditions and job losses, they did not want to ask their sons to take extended leave. And the sons did not insist on coming either. I am not judging them as this is perhaps just illustrative of how relationships have become secondary to employment interests. I almost wrote family ‘responsibilities’ there instead of relationships but I am no longer sure of how much responsibility the children have toward their parents. It seems that , like in the west, we have also come to believe that parents bring their children into this world so they need to accept responsibility for them while children owe nothing to their parents and so filial responsibility is probably an outdated concept.

She finally went through the surgery with help from extended family who gave her post operative care and made sure that her mother was not left alone.
While I was with my aunt she said something that made me think:
“the doctors tell me that I have got another lease of life, at least another 10 years with this operation. But tell me what do I want another ten years for?” Perhaps it is the pain that she was going through that made her say that; or perhaps she meant it because she really doesn’t think she needs another 10 years. And she is a person who is highly educated and has varied interests such as books, music and crosswords. It is not lack of interests but a sense of purposelessness that made her say this.

Improvements in health facilities have given us extra years to live but neither our social system nor our infrastructure have changed enough to help us use these extra years purposefully. Traditionally old age was a period spent in pursuit of religious activities, accumulating good Karma away from the demands of the material world. But what about those who are not interested in such pursuits? They have a choice of baby sitting their grandchildren or watching unlimited hours of soaps, cricket or news. If one is an out doors person opportunities are restricted:
In cities like Bangalore, many new residential colonies do not even have proper footpaths and it is quite unsafe for the elderly to venture out on these roads even for a walk.
Very few areas have even a tiny park for these people to meet and spend the evening.
Concerts and plays mean commuting long distances for which transport is either unavailable or unaffordable in retirement.
Even public libraries are few and far between.
Most activities for entertainment and amusement are, in any case, aimed at a wallet-share of the young with a high spending ability and willingness.
Confined for the most part within the four walls of their homes, it isn’t a surprise that they do not have much to look forward to.

These are reflective of our attitude toward old age. Maami ,in a very interesting post here calls this attitude ageism. Such attitudes have been ingrained in our collective psyche as our culture and more specifically Hinduism imposes 'borders' on the ageing process. It clearly defines the stages of one's life, and people seem to take it that they cannot do certain things at certain ages, whereas the reverse in fact is true in today's economic, globalised world: feel free to do the things you always wanted to do, and if you can afford it, enjoy the best of what is available, don't care about what the world thinks of you as long as you think it is the right thing to do.
Spend your day at a satsang by all means if that is your idea of finding meaning in life but do not judge someone else who prefers to spend a day at the mall or who likes to relax with a pedicure or a facial. Finally they are at the age when they can make informed choices without being told what is the ‘thing to do’ or the ‘way to be’. Both airlines and railways have concessions for senior citizens. People should make use of these and travel to places together if their health allows them to. Above all, they must accept responsibility of ageing on themselves, i.e. not be fatalistic, exercise regularly, be disciplined in one's dietary habits, and search/reach out for those habits that reinforce critical requirements in healthy ageing, such as socialising with similar interests-seeking peoples, joint activities/outings, charity work,. Markets will keep up with their demands once they know that their wallets are available to plunder.

‘Old’ should stop being a bad word. I heard from a friend that in Singapore, it is now quite common to see large numbers of 50+ Chinese going to bangra classes, as they have learnt that it is very good for their bones, keeps their muscles toned , and is a good way to meet other people! People in the west talk about beginning life at 40 and even get married at 50 and 60 when they find their ideal companion for their sunset years. It may be a long way before we begin to accept such ideas but I think if people could liberate themselves from thinking and feeling ‘old’ there are still many ways in which they could make their old age enjoyable. The best age-defying mechanisms come from our thoughts and not from applying creams and lotions. I do not mean to over- romanticize old age as the high point of one’s life which it certainly isn’t; but my point is just that when you know something to be inevitable you might as well be prepared to face it with grace. It just seems the smart thing to do. There is a very thin line between dying alone and living free and it is completely decided by the way you decide to look at old age.

*Vanaprastha - is the third stage in the 4 main stages of life classified in Hiduism - Brahmacharya( student), grihastha (householder) Vanaprastha (retirement from worldly attachments) and Sanyasa (renunciation)

Woman,un-role yourself!

2009-03-08T12:09:00.005+07:00

Deccan Herald mar 6 2009:

A bank employee committed suicide by hanging herself at her house in CK Achukattu police limits on Thursday.
The deceased Priyamvada (27), an employee of IndusInd Bank, took the extreme step after she was reportedly told by a doctor that she had remote chances of conceiving.

According to sources, Priyamvada was married to an employee of a private bank two years ago and the couple had no issues. She recently met a doctor who is said to have told her that she might not conceive.
The incident came to light when her husband returned home in the evening. She has left a suicide note asking her husband to marry another girl.

In one of my earliest posts I had spoken about this craving for children among humans specially women. Last week someone had left a comment there asking me if I had any of my own. I could not make out if the person agreed or disagreed with me or if he/she was trying to see if I knew what i was talking about. I love kids, my own and those of others - I'd any day prefer to spend time with them than in the company of adults. I do not mind the demands on my time, energy and emotions but I don't think I'd have been shattered if I could not have one of my own. A child doesn't have to have the stamp of my genes for me to love him or her. And more importantly, I do not define myself in terms of my role as a mother.

In spite of their refusal to be stereotyped in many ways, it seems that many young women still feel inadequate when they cannot bear a child. One woman even told me that she saw it as a kind of personal failure. I responded: 'What is the big deal? You cannot paint, you cannot sing, you cannot have a child. have you thought about adoption?'
She thought I was joking or even a bit insensitive perhaps.

I am quite aware of the stigma that used to be attached to a woman who was not 'fertile'- there is even a specific word for a barren woman in Tamil. It is also interesting that there is no male equivalent to the same word!
A while ago a young girl wrote to me about the kind of insults that were thrown at her by her in-laws because she hasn't been able to give them a grandchild three or four years since her marriage. It was even more unfair because her gynecologist had cleared her of any possible problem and her in-laws refused to believe her. And the husband preferred to let her deal with his parents and did nothing to stop his parents or be emotionally supportive to the young wife. And all this was happening not in some remote village in India but in a country in the western world where they had made their home. And the girl herself is a well-educated woman with a career.
In her story I was not surprised by the attitude of her in-laws given their age and background. But I was surprised that the girl and her husband were affected by the criticism to the extent their marriage was in trouble.

The ability to create a life is a special gift that nature has bestowed upon most women but there is no reason to feel worthless if your body is not fit for the same. There are still ways to create meaning in life. It is not a handicap. You are still a perfect person.
This women's day my appeal my sisters would be not to allow others to define them in terms of roles. For this we have to first stop seeing ourselves as these roles. Being a mother is just one part of your life. If you cannot have one of your own, give vent to your maternal feelings by adopting a child or supporting one. Your life is too precious to be given up for this.

Happy women's day!

Hey Ram!

2009-02-10T13:27:00.007+07:00

I received mails from some young friends urging me to join the protest against Sri Rama Sene chief Muthalik on Valentine’s day by sending him pink underwear.
Before people begin to paint me with the same brush as Muthalik let me openly declare that Muthalik and his ilk irritate me. If there was a campaign to tie him to a tree and throw pink marbles at him I’d be happy to participate with gusto. Or participate in a march to have him declared a known goonda and disturber of peace and have him arrested under some act similar to the TADA.
But send him my precious lingerie? No way. Actually I do not own any in pink but if I did I assume they’d be lovely with laces and all, and why on earth would I send it to Muthalik? Even the thought makes me sick.What is the point anyway?

I have a better idea. He calls himself the leader of the Shri Ram Sene and as far as I remember the most famous Sene of Shri Ram, the one that he led to defeat Ravana, consisted entirely of Vanaras or monkeys. Now that explains it all, doesn’t it? So let us send them pink ribbons for their tails or lots of bananas. Peanuts? Pink Monkey caps may be? Send him pink dupattas with detailed notes on how he can use them to hang himself.

Why isn’t that guy being taken into preventive custody after he has public announced his intentions to disrupt peace on Valentine’s day?
How come our police and administration become so meticulous about observance of rules when it comes to such people who have backings of political parties. My maid’s son is routinely taken for investigation and kept in the police station for a few days whenever there is a theft in their area. Reason: he has a previous record of petty theft. There are times when he is kept there for days and beaten up for no crime of his. The police inspector does not seem to remember the rules in these cases but with people like Muthalik, law is followed to the last letter.
WHY? Here is a guy who beats up women, makes threatening noises about causing trouble to private celebrations, pokes his nose into people’s private affairs and he is not considered a candidate for a few days of lock up and some police hospitality? WHY?
If nothing he should be locked up for defaming Rama’s name – what gives him the right to indulge in his goondagiri and use Rama’s name to justify it all. Valmiki’s Rama was a hero who hesitated to use force even against evil demons like Tataka because she was a woman and a true warrior was not supposed to use his force against a woman. And here in his name this joker goes and beats up women. Where are the other custodians of Rama now – the Dals, Parishads and Hindutva champions-? And why aren’t they raising their voice against this defamation of their God?

There are two reasons why such people get away with their interference with the liberties of other people. They are backed by powerful lobbies whom the party in power is scared to antagonise. And their victims’ cause is not considered important enough, worthy of protection. Women’s freedom and rights have never been considered serious enough by people entrusted with enforcing law.. Complaints of eve-teasing , molestation, sexual abuse, wife-beating are low priority – not worth the same kind of attention as political crimes, dacoities, murders and now terrorism. How many women even know that they have legal rights? And if you do try taking such a case to the police station, most of the time the woman is told to go home and behave herself and not infuriate the men of the house. Or tempt them. When the perpetrators know that their victims enjoy such low levels of protection, naturally they indulge in these acts with impunity.

When people talk of women's rights in this country, it is more in the tone of trying to assimilate the weaker sections in the mainstream rather than with the kind of outrage that a human rights issue is accorded. There is that patronising attitude as if concessions are being granted, as if it is an act of generosity. That people like Muthalik walk free on the other side of prison bars and enjoy media limelight is a manifestation of a larger problem with our society and governance. Unless we have laws that deal with those elements firmly and the law enforcers exhibit a willingness to enforce our constitutional rights in spirit and in letter, these problems will exist even after we run out of pink chaddis in the world.

How to be comfortably over-weight

2009-01-20T18:23:00.016+07:00

There are a few things you don’t ask a woman about : one is her age and the other is her weight. Everything else – her salary, her husband’s salary, how annoying he is, how pathetic their sex life is and her favorite fantasies – Ya sure, what do you want to know? Everything is alright to talk about but her age and weight, a strict NO. It seems like all the people in my life missed the memo as the first thing they would talk about when they meet a person after a while is about her weight.
If it is someone from the family-tree they would almost always say that I look famished, /stick-thin/ anemic and wonder if I had been ill recently. I feel touched by all this unconditional love that considers my 68 kg frame as underweight and thin.
On the other hand are the ruthless friends who are worse than a personal trainer. They seem to keep a tab on every gram and millimeter I gain and they critically examine me from every angle every time and tell me all the areas where I need to lose some more to get that ideal figure for my height. There is no point trying to tell them that I have no desire to achieve that level of perfection – ‘come on yaar’ , they’d say, ‘don’t give up that easily’ and then they’d tell me success stories of those who lost 10 kgs just living on sprouts for 6 months and someone who lost 10 pounds by walking. ‘I have done that too’, I’d say, ‘I once lost a 10 pound note too while walking in London’ and all I’d get is a look people reserve for pathetic losers.

Now this must give you a clue why I resent occasions involving meeting these two categories of people. Weddings are the worst because they are filled with specimens from both categories. I usually come back feeling crushed from these but over the years I have developed some retorts for weight-watchers – that is the people who watch your weight. You use the appropriate number depending on the type of person you have to deal with. Of course there is not an iota of truth in any of the statements but this is not about truth but about killing the topic effectively before it gets out of hand:

1. For the Bhartiya Naari types here’s a totally unbeatable response:
My husband doesn’t like thin women.
End of story. Case closed. No one argues with that one. After all, isn’t it the supreme duty of a woman to be how her husband wants her to be!

2. This is for the health freaks and medical maniacs:
I have a medical condition called Parumanitis which affects my memory if I go less than 65 KG. Apparently it is a very rare kind of illness found in one in a billion.
Of course medical conditions , real or feigned, are valid reasons to be as fat or as thin as you want to be. And the fancier the name the better.

3. For the fashion-conscious:
Oh I just had a whole new wardrobe designed by Arun Ahliani . I don’t want to lose weight and spoil the fit.
Oh, the sacrifices one has to make for the cause of fashion – people will understand this and even sympathise. You might even find them viewing your weight with respect now that it is draped in Arun Ahliani outfits! (They will never know that Arun is actually the name of your street-corner tailor!)

4. For the ideology-oriented::
This is a one woman movement against body-image slavery . I defy any attempt to reduce me to numbers. Underneath these layers of fat is the person who matters!
And I stand up for my freedom to consume as many calories as I want and my liberties shall not be curtailed by anyone who dictates how fat or thin I should be.

5. For the Bindaas types:
Who cares yaar! Life is short, enjoy and be happy! Let us have another slice of that Blueberry cheese cake.

6. Then there is always the genes card:
In our family we have always been plump. There is only so much you can do to defy your genes.

It usually works for me. If you are surrounded by clones of my friends and family and please feel free to use any of these tips. Absolutely free - see, fat people are usually very generous!
And once you have dealt with them effectively, you can go home to the privacy of your bedroom, curl up in fetal position and cry over your weight. Very cathartic I tell ya!

****************************************
Added after 15 comments:
Here are a few more valid excuses to ward them off:
1. Rads has a regional angle - Telugus are trim while Tamils are like this only. Judging by the number of Southern film stars who have telugu origin, it seems possible. Possibly something to do with our diet? The paruppu sadam dripping with ghee and thayir sadam may be. Like the other day someone told me that people from Andhra are extremely good at math - perhaps because of all those chillies they consume.

2.This from a friend who says:
'Don't worry about the number 68. Sixties are the new 50s.'
Well, so I am only 58 - No wonder my dear ancestors think I am underweight.

The importance of being virgin

2009-01-13T18:46:00.012+07:00

A friend sent me this link and asked me what I thought about it.
For those of you who are too lazy to follow the link it is the story about a 22 year old woman from San Diego calling herself Natalie Dylan who is auctioning her virginity at bunnyranch.com.
I had read about this a few months ago and thought that this was one of those publicity stunts backed by some TV reality show. I was a bit surprised that the story had not yet seen its natural death. I was asked for an opinion and being the ever-conscientious opinion-giver, I went online to read the details.
OK why is she is doing this? To finance her studies. Excellent motivation I admit.
How did she hit on the brilliant idea? From her sister who had worked as a prostitute to put herself through college. Hm, looks like a disease that runs in the family.

According to reports the bid has reached $ 3.7 million which has even surprised Natalie.
"It's shocking that men will pay so much for someone's virginity, which isn't even prized so highly any more. It's become some kind of competition between all these men that they all want to win," she said.
The newspapers also quote her as having said:
"I am not being sold into this, I'm not being taken advantage of in any way. Me and the person I do it with will both profit greatly from the deal."

My initial thoughts were that it is her body and what she wants to do with it is her problem. But then I was quite intrigued that someone would want to pay 3.7 million US dollars just for sleeping with a virgin and just once.
Obsession with virginity is characteristic of patriarchal societies where women are held subservient to men. Liberal societies do not place such a premium on it and virginity is not associated with issues such as morality and honour. In traditional societies one reason why men want to marry virgins is a perceived and accepted sense of Masculinity about being the one to 'deflower' a virgin. Of course the other and more important reason is to ensure the purity of the bloodline for the offspring. Hence the practice of honour killings etc. in traditional societies even today.

Going back to the story, this report
says ‘she had no moral dilemma with her decision and found it "empowering".
Empowering? It is one thing to be in control of one’s body but is it really empowering to have to sell your body to the highest bidder?
Allowing one to be treated as a commodity – is it empowering or demeaning? I have heard the argument that if a woman decides to use her body as the stock for her trade, she should have the liberty to do it and should not be treated as a criminal. I agree, but is it the same as saying that prostitution empowers a woman?

What is interesting is that she did not offer just her body but used the virginity card. Obviously she was pandering to that secret desire of men to be the first man in a woman's body which gave them a sense of dominance. So this whole experience is not going to be about her own sexual pleasure but about making man feel important and special and for him to 'own' her albeit for that short period. He is paying for it isn't he? She is going to sell herself to him for him to use her- What is so empowering about it?

Considering that this woman is a student of women’s studies , I only hope that she is doing this as some kind of an experiment for some project related to her course.. Perhaps she is trying to expose the hypocrisy among U.S. society which claims not to place too much emphasis on a woman’s virginity. Or am I giving her way too much credit?

And what about the bidders? Something seems fishy when in a sexually free society, someone is willing to buy sex with an inexperienced person at a phenomenal sum of 3.7 million. Why? Is it a statement about the importance of virginity as a valuable possession for a woman to have? Aren't there enough honour killings already based on this belief? And aren't there enough crimes against innocent virgin women and girl children in parts of Africa based on the myth that sex with a virgin is a cure for AIDS?

Or is it simply that there is too much money in the hands of stupid people?

No lipservice this

2008-12-07T19:37:00.008+07:00

I love lipstick. Ever since I was a child I have been fascinated by it. In my childhood, in most conservative families this was a banned item. You could apply thick Kajal under your eyes which was considered very appropriate and even good for the eyes; on festive occasions grown-ups could use betel leaves and lime which reddened their lips which was completely acceptable. But applying lipstick was a strict no-no. My father said only ‘chattaikaris’ (anglo-Indians) used lipstick. – to my young mind it seemed like there was some sort of a law against non Anglo-Indians using it. And there wasn’t even the possibility of stealing lipstick from an adult’s cosmetic bag – none of my relatives used it. So lipstick came to symbolise all that I wanted to be when I grew up – rebellious, liberated and free to do what I wanted.

In my high school days whenever we participated in school plays or dances we were allowed to wear rose powder and lipstick which was all the make-up we knew about. The teacher in charge of these cultural activities had the budget to buy one container of the said powder ( cheapest of course – might have been Ponds in those days, not sure) and one bright red lip stick which was applied across the board irrespective of the colour of their dress and their own complexion. On those rare occasions I felt like Miss world and as Ugich Konitari mentions in this post, we always hoped we would be allowed to sleep with the make-up on. Most of us would be scared to close our painted lips for fear of erasing it. Imagine having to use words with sounds like M and P! That would have meant danger to the colour on the lips and we were quite sure that the teacher would not have entertained any request for a touch up. I remember rushing back to the house after the event with all the powder and lipstick on my face making sure that the lips were pursed inward all the way home. It might have meant trouble if any adult we knew had spotted me with lipstick on the street.

Lipstick and trouble seem to go together as though they were meant for each other. Remember the ‘lipstick on the pig’ remark by the American President-elect Obama during his election campaign? And of course ‘lipstick on the collar’ has always meant trouble for married men!! In ancient Egypt it was a source of much trouble because ancient Egyptian women squeezed out purple-red color from iodine and bromine, leading to serious diseases and hence it came to be referred to as ‘the kiss of death’. Cleopatra’s lipsticks spelt trouble too - not to her but to certain species of insects. It is said that Cleopatra’s lipstick were made from carmine beetles, which when worked with pestle gave a strong red color pigment. This was mixed with ant’s eggs, which provided the base. And in recent history, a certain Mr. Naqvi may not have had much peace since he mentioned the word lipstick..

I have courted trouble too with my obsession with the lipstick. When I was in the seventh or eighth grade, there was this friend in our class who was very fair and had naturally pink lips. She had this habit of biting her lips every now and then which made her lips even redder. I remember spending many an evening trying to bite my lips in the hope of turning them naturally red and finally I only ended with sore lips, blood and all. And then came the discovery of Asha. My mother used a sort of wax as the base before applying her kumkum on the forehead – it was called ‘asha” for some reason. Perhaps that was the name of the brand. Now this was a bright red wax much like today’s lip balm and a little of it was enough to give a bright red colour. For a while it became a favorite clandestine activity to steal ‘asha” and apply it all over the lips. Suddenly one felt all grown up and ‘sophisticated’ – there was a change in the way one spoke and walked with ‘asha’ on the lips. One fine afternoon, my father caught me red-handed ( red-lipped rather) and he asked me to wipe it off right away – he said I looked like a monkey .

I was twenty-one by the time I owned by first lipstick which was part of a make-up set gifted by my college friends for my wedding. And by the early eighties it was quite common for middle-class working women to wear lipstick though generally not among teachers, doctors etc. Just as the lipstick was coming within my reach there was a change in fashion which made the un-made-up look popular at the workplace unless you were in the entertainment or hospitality industries. Otherwise people wore lipstick only for parties, weddings etc. Or they wore shades that blended naturally with their lip colour which made it almost invisible. None of the maroon that actress Rekha sported and looked gorgeous and which I so longed to wear. Not that I'd have been able to carry it off but did I care? And on the rare occasions that I actually got to use a lipstick I realised that I simply did not possess the panache to keep it on. One glass of juice was enough to get rid of it all; and I don’t think I would choose to starve in order just to keep the colour on.So finally I have accepted that I was never born to wear a lipstick and yet, if you see me lingering in a page in any magazine it would most certainly have an ad for some brand of lipstick.

Now that I have established clearly that I do not wear any lipstick, Mr. Naqvi, may I shout some slogans against you?

When the rose turned plastic

2008-12-04T23:55:00.005+07:00

Aarti sat on the steps that led from her drawing room to the dining space and surveyed the arrangement – new covers for the cushions in rich hues and soft fabric, fresh flowers in the vases, carpet vacuumed to look as good as new. The room looked warm and welcoming. She closed her eyes savoring the feeling of contentment. She loved to surround herself with beautiful things and worked hard to keep them beautiful. She was naturally gifted with the creativity to transform simple spaces into artistic niches by furnishing them inventively. Visitors to the house never failed to comment on how good they felt in her house where everything blended beautifully and harmoniously.

Except Karthik, Aarti’s husband. A busy surgeon at one of the best hospitals in the city, he spent very little time at home and even those hours were spent reading or watching the television. His skill, dedication and patience had made him very popular among his patients. It also helped that his father was one of the most respected surgeons in the city. With her too he was patient, willing to listen and respectful of her opinions. Their life lacked no comfort as they lived on an unlimited budget and he never questioned her about any expense however extravagant or unnecessary.

To all their friends theirs was the charmed life fairy tales were made of. Their lifestyle was something they could hope to have if they worked hard for another ten years. Many of her friends from college still lived in the city and they met every few months to share an afternoon of fun and laughter. Sometimes there were tears too about their husbands and their insensitivity or disappointment over their failures. A couple of them had even separated. To all of them, Aaarti’s life with Karthik was the model of a happy marriage. They openly told her how jealous they were of her to have someone like Karthik – handsome, successful and liberal.

Although she allowed her friends to believe that her life was perfect, Aaarti had her secret longings. Karthik had no romantic streak in him – if she said she wanted Romance, he might tell her to go ahead and buy it never mind the cost! He was down-to-earth about everything. He did not notice any of her efforts in beautifying the house and even when she deliberately drew his attention to these all he could think of saying was: ‘Nice, but I thought it looked nice earlier too”. After the first few months of their marriage, Aarti gave up expecting him to appreciate her efforts. But there were days when she longed that he would send her flowers or bring her a surprise gift or call her from work just to say he was thinking of her.

Those were the times she missed Anand. Anand who never forgot her birthdays, who noticed every little thing she did and appreciated it, who worshipped the ground she walked on, who made sure she was escorted everywhere. His family lived on the same street as her parents and they were also related in some distant way. Both parents approved of their friendship and there was a tacit understanding that they would be married eventually. Until Aarti’s grandmother decided to match their horoscopes! Everything went awry when the astrologer declared that his natal chart alignment signified an early death for his wife. So naturally the grandmother’s iron will prevailed and the parents were not so sure anymore. A disappointed Anand applied for a job overseas. When he found one in Singapore he disappeared from her life. He never wrote to her and eventually Aarti accepted that he was gone forever from her life.

She did not think of Anand often in the early years of her life with Karthik. It felt good to be married to the sort of man whom all her friends admired and wanted. And in any case it was tough to find anything wrong with Karthik who was kind and gentle and never demanded or complained. But after the first year she felt that Karthik and she were already like an old couple, married for 25 years or so and comfortable with each other – no surprises, nothing unpredictable, everything was a given. Life was placid, calm and ... she searched for the right word in her mind and found it - and... BORING.

It lacked the excitement her friends seemed to be having – the romance of struggling together , seeking reassurance and comfort in each other, joy in simple things. Often she thought of what it might have been had she married Anand. Life might have been full of spice –romantic walks in the park, saving for exotic holidays, candle light dinners, surprise gifts and cards, valentine days, fighting and making up (fighting just to make up perhaps) - she imagined all the candy floss from Bollywood and Hollywood. They would still be struggling financially but she imagined their love might have compensated for everything they lacked materially. When she heard romantic songs, especially from the past, she was reminded of him.

Now as she sat there on the steps looking at the room she wondered what Anand might have said about it. She knew that he would have noticed every minor detail and made her feel special. He always did.

She emerged from the reverie she had drifted into when the phone rang. It was from her mother who called to give her news that was music to her ears. Anand had come visiting his parents after all these years! Aaarti could not believe that this was indeed happening. She asked her mother a hundred questions about him – how he looked, how he spoke, had he acquired an accent, did he look happy, was he back for good, what had she told him about her, and about Karthik. Her mother laughed at her questions and simply said that he was the same old Anand they knew and that he had taken her number to call before visiting her.
Aarti felt strange after the call. She could not focus her thoughts. She felt nervous all of a sudden. She picked up a book to read but couldn’t concentrate. She tried to nap but was worried she might miss his call. She made sure she carried the handset along wherever she went in the house. Finally the phone rang.

To her relief it was from Anand. She tried to sound casual but her voice made her excitement clear. His happiness was palpable too. They made plans for him to meet Karthik over the weekend but she wanted to meet him before that. So they decidced to meet for lunch the next day.

She put the phone down and suddenly she was all frazzled, feeling like a teenager before her first date. She couldn’t decide what she wanted to wear. She wanted to look perfect for this meeting but at the same time appear casual. Suddenly her wardrobe seemed inadequate. She wished she had more time and then she wished she didn’t have to wait till next afternoon. She wanted to cry. For once she was happy that Karthik did not notice how nervous she was.

After the longest 20 hours of her life, finally it was it was time to leave. She could still not think of the perfect thing to say when they met. She knew this would be a Kodak moment in her memory and she wanted this to be perfect for both of them. No blunders.
She did not want him to be disappointed in anyway either.

When she entered the restaurant he was already at their table and got up to greet her. He looked just the same and she said that. He laughed and then said:
‘But you seem to have graduated to the contented Indian housewife look. Your husband’s prosperity shows on you, you know ’ he winked and then he laughed.
In the past she had never been offended by his references to her appearance and weight. It was true that she had added a few kilos since her marriage but she was by no means fat and in any case this was not warranted.
She excused herself and went to the restroom and when she came back he announced that he had already placed the order for starters.
“Hey I know your taste and I am sure you will like what I ordered”, he said and she tried valiantly to hide her irritation.
He updated her on his job, life in Singapore etc. She relaxed soon and asked him whether he had lost his way all these years and finally strayed back home.
He laughed and announced he was back to find a bride : ‘ There’s no substitute to a good Indian girl for a happy married life”
“How so?’ Aarti asked a bit confused.
“Someone who’d be content to take care of the husband and house, who would put her family before her career you know, like you for example. No feminist nonsense for me. In any case I make enough money so there is no need for her to go out and work.”

‘What do you even know about my life to make these comments?’ Aaarti thought and it suddenly occurred to her that Karthik had laid no conditions about her decision to have a career or not. She was free to do what she wanted. She tried to recollect if he had ever attempted to force anything on her – be it books or food preferences or clothing. Never.
It had always been “whatever you want to do.”

As the afternoon progressed and they talked more she was struggling to figure out why she was ever in love with this person. He still made her laugh but it was not the subtle , intelligent kind of humour but of the adolescent and boisterous variety. She found it loud. And he was dominating and sometimes insensitive. It seemed to her that you need the naïveté of romantic love to dull the edge of selfishness and oppression and make them seem as protectiveness and attention and care.
“I am glad we finally met again after all these years. I feel so much better now” she said while parting and meant every word of it.

She got into the car and suddenly she couldn’t wait to get back to her boring life.

P.s: This is a real story from a friend's life. She dreamt of her college boyfriend for 5 years after her marriage and then when they met again, she couldn't wait to take the flight back to her husband. And then she lived happily ever after. I have used it here upon her suggestion.

Nearly normal?

2008-12-01T11:05:00.011+07:00

It has been a depressing few days for the nation as a whole. We have been as sickened by the sounds of gunshots and explosives as by the incessant voices on the various channels especially those of politicians. It was something you wanted to run away from and yet could not. It seemed that sitting before the television and hoping for the drama to end soon was all you could do to express solidarity to the people who were trapped inside, engulfed in horror and for the brave men who were going about their job unaffected by the cameras and mayhem surrounding the scene of action. Over the 60 hour period, emotions changed from shock to horror to gratitude to relief but catharsis came finally through tears. Copious tears shed for the loss of some of our best officers and the young commando from one's own city, for all those who came to visit this country and never went back and for the staff who took care of their guests till their very last; and for baby Moshe who doesn't know the immensity of his loss and all children for whom living with terror might become a way of life. Heart-breaking stories and tales of real heroism.

It is all finally over but somehow you know your world has changed forever. When you wave goodbye to someone and say 'take care' it is no longer perfunctory, you mean it. When people are unduly delayed or when some one is traveling, you do tend to check the television news often and there is a feeling of unease until they are safely home. Nothing is certain anymore except NOW.

And then there is anger, a lot of anger:

- at the evil gunmen and their masters. Their death came too soon, you want them rot away slowly pleading for mercy. Did the lone survivor say he has no regrets? Oh, we will see about that and by the time we are through with the investigations you will have plenty of that don't worry!

- at those who had intelligence of the plot and chose to ignore it. Why? How could they take something like this lightly? Every false alarm is worth investigation. You can never be too sure considering what the city has suffered recently.

- at the men who groveled for our votes but now choose to sit in their comfortable chairs and say that in a big city such things are bound to happen. Really? So remind us again why do we have a government and why do we pay our taxes?
I'd be happy to see their heads roll and that is not in figurative terms.

- at the politicians who try to get some bandwidth out of a brave young man's death and making a mockery of his funeral disrespecting the sentiments of his grieving family.
No wonder his father could not handle it anymore when the Kerala CM and home minister came visiting. He simply ordered them out of his house.

- at our neighbor - who still refuses to see that it is in its own interest to act on evidence presented and not hide behind rhetoric. How many such incidents do they need to see that terror is no longer a local phenomenon and collective action is needed to confront and quell it or it may be their turn next. How long will they turn a blind eye to it?

- at the media - well not exactly anger but irritation at the way you all went overboard with your reporting. yes,we heard that you were risking your lives to bring us footage of the scene of action. But I am not sure if we needed all the information you gave us. Frankly, what was the need for a minute by minute report - it wasn't a match happening there. So many media persons around might actually have been a distraction and added stress on the administration. Even otherwise, you could just shown us the pictures and let the camera speak. We could have done with less of your incessant chatter. Arnab, Barka and Rajdeep, your lung power is simply amazing. But next time, follow the simple rule: If there is nothing new to report, that is your cue to shut up. And you don't shove microphones before worried and grieving people to give you a sense of what is going through their minds. Not done. ( edited to add: Gnani Sankaran, Tamil writer raises some very important points on the lopsided media coverage of the attack here.)

So did we hear the politicians say that the nation stood united in those moments of terror? That moment is apparently over as they have gone back to their old bickering and pettiness. Calculations must be on to see how this disaster can be converted to votes or seats. Looks like life is back to normal.

Only normal is not so normal anymore for the man on the street.

of primates and parlours

2008-11-24T10:36:00.013+07:00

Many of my friends tell me that they find haircuts,facials and pedicure very relaxing. One reason could be the feeling of well being that is born of looking good. Another could be the primitive sense of bonding that dates back to primate life.

“social grooming” is a common practice of primates. They “spend hours each day ruffling through each other’s fur, removing bits of loose skin or burrs caught in the fine hairs”The frequency with which any two individuals groom each other appears to be a reliable index of the closeness of the social bond between them--that is, the extent to which each can count on the other for support.

(source:article here.)

Reading this took me back in time to a long forgotten memory of women of the household combing each others hair, checking for lice and cleaning them in the days when beauty parlours were rare and expensive and even shampooing was considered harmful to the hair. Washing hair was a weekly ritual. Thick and long flowing tresses could not be handled on one's own and usually they helped each other in washing it off. Oiling and combing of hair was usually kept aside for the leisurely afternoons; Snarls would be delicately untangled with least damage and then the hair oiled with pure coconut oil or delicately perfumed Tata oil or the strong keshavardhini or cathredine for special occasions. Finally it would be carefully plaited ensuring that all the hair stayed in place and every plait was of equal tension resulting in a symmetric design. And the finishing touch would be a strand of fresh flowers. All of this was done with ritualistic care and involvement with women of the family helping each other in combing and plaiting. A lot passed between the women during these times - shared gossip, confidences and counsel and plenty of laughter. I had an aunt who would always insist on combing and plaiting my hair whenever she came visiting and my grandmother did this too - this was their way of showing that they cared. Any hair damage that they noticed would meet with severe disapproval and by the end of the stay they ensured that the damage was fixed.
It now occurs to me that they did this only for their favorites - not to all the women and children in the house. Grooming to express alliance!

Have you noticed that it makes you feel good when someone ruffles through your hair? In fact we even have an idiom in Tamil when two people bond closely they are described as scratching each other's backs - yet another allusion to grooming and bonding. With the break-up of joint families and opportunities within the family to bond, we seem to have found the closest alternative in parlours. A famous hairdresser had once said in an interview that a lot of his regular clients confide in him when he treats their hair. Not every one uses the hairdresser as their confidante but there may be a reason why they find grooming relaxing. And the article quoted above tells us why:

Being groomed is reported to be a very pleasurable experience. As Dunbar points out:
"In fact, we now know that grooming stimulates the production of the body’s natural opiates, the endorphins; in effect, being groomed produces mildly narcotic effects."

The article discusses the interesting theory that language evolved as an alternative for grooming in the effort to socialise and form alliances - as grooming was individual bonding and required more time. It seems that language evolved basically to fulfill the urge to gossip. Anthropologists at the Social Issues Research Centre (SIRC) in Oxford, UK, say chatting on the phone is the human equivalent of social grooming among chimpanzees and gorillas. Could it be that humans are constantly in search of an alternative to fulfill the early needs met by the act of grooming? perhaps there lies in the deep recesses of our subconscious an unsatisfied urge: ah,If only we could sit in groups and look for lice in each other's hair!!!
So next time you swipe your card at the parlour for that fat bill, don't be filled with guilt. You probably just gave in to a basic primitive instinct - blame it on our common ancestors:

(Pic source :http://www.phpsolvent.com/images/monkeys-grooming-749185.jpg via google images)

Am I a feminist?

2008-11-20T11:20:00.013+07:00

Sujatha asked me to answer this in a tag she passed to me. I have earlier spoken on what feminism means to me and expressed strong views on issues such as female foeticide, virginity, gender bias, rape as a means of subjugation,
genital mutilation, women's sexuality etc.
But this time around the question made me introspect more and honestly define the kind of feminism I practice.
Am I a feminist?
Would I fight for Equality – political, social, economic? yes.
Do I believe in equal opportunities for men and women everywhere? yes.
Do I fight discrimination in every way between genders? – yes
So can I define myself as a feminist and feel good about being on the politically correct side of an issue and go back to playing hangman?
Something was holding me back – a little niggling at the back of my mind. Like an itch in the throat that you can’t reach and scratch.

So I decided to face it headlong. Was I being totally honest?

At fifty, I am at a stage in life where I am fairly independent - economically and emotionally – where I am not often presented with situations where I have to make a feminist choice. Very rarely do I have to interact with people from outside the educated, upper middle-class where people hardly see me as a woman but mostly as a person. In professional dealings too I am fairly high on the food chain to be open to any kind of gender-based discrimination.
So from my comfortable sofa it is easy for me to look at feminism as an issue that is out there, or say what I think is the right position to have if one faces gender-based discrimination.

My early years were spent in a milieu where a girl was considered a responsibility and a boy an investment or asset. Girls were given the same treatment materially but there was a clear difference in attitude. There was definitely less freedom of speech and movement to girls than boys. One did not know there were other ways to live and so the discrimination did not hurt so much. Obviously I was not born with a natural sense of justice because I did put up with this kind of discrimination without even noticing it.

In my twenties and thirties too, as I look back, I think I have taken a lot of crap in relationships. I have been a doormat in some imagining it to be patience and love or sacrifice needed for a greater purpose. I have endured a lot and seen it as bad karma.. Allowing myself to be maneuvered, exploited by people, perhaps reinforcing their belief on why women deserved to be doormats.
I could blame it again on my upbringing but where was my independent thought – I was educated too, wasn’t I? I can only say that I chose to allow them to treat me badly. I did not stand up for my rights or my dignity as a person. I was not confident enough, I needed acceptance at all costs. I wonder if I symbolised reasons why women are considered the weaker sex. So in that sense I probably was not a feminist – but I was the reason why such movements were needed. :)

I believe I became the person that I am only when I turned 35. By this time, I had developed enough confidence and ideas and begun to see me as a person rather than defining myself in terms of others. I am outraged when I see discriminations of any kind – particularly on the basis of gender and let out steam here.I try to talk to younger people and make them see the flaws in their reasoning or areas of weakness in their relationships with men. I try to give them the confidence that they do not need men as emotional crutches but as equal partners in their marriage. And in this space I try to register protest against discrimination when I see it hoping to reach out to a handful of younger minds with my thoughts and hoping to provoke some discussion on sensitive issues affecting women or at least prod them gently to think about these issues.
But by the time I was 35, my life and station had moved to a place where there was less room for exploitation on the basis of gender. Have you noticed that Indian men begin to treat other women in a sexless way when they turn 35 or 40? They do not mind having bosses of a certain age, somehow they do not seem a threat. They do not make passes at them. Not as a norm in any case. They are not objects any more but respectable behenjis and auntys. And I am not complaining. The point is that by the time I was 35 or 40 there was no need to fight for any feminist reasons because there was no cause – no one was looking at me that way. I mean , at least most of the time.

So the answer to the question ‘are you a feminist?' would be a “yes’ without a trace of doubtsince it is in the present tense. But the point is that I was not one when it could have made a difference to my life. And even today I am not constantly treat one another fairly and without bias.
And would I be a feminist if I had to risk life and limb for it? Would my safety and life be more important to me than my individuality and rights? Would I be a feminist, for example, if I were living in Afganistan today? I am not sure. Would I even notice the discriminations if I were born in Saudi Arabia and lived there all my life? I don’t know. I would be a different kind of person then. And since I know from my experience that a sense of justice is acquired rather than genetic, I cannot answer for the kind of person I would be under different conditions.
So I guess the answer to this question in its entirety would have to be “I DON”T KNOW.”

Yet another hospital experience

2008-11-18T16:16:00.008+07:00

I am comfortable only with doctors with a sense of humour - who can make you laugh about your condition by seeing the funny side of it. A friend even goes a bit further and declares that the most successful doctors are those with a sense of humour because in a profession where you deal with so much of suffering, you need it to cope and be successful. I am not so sure because I have come across doctors like the ones you see in films who look at you gravely, remove ther spectacles solemnly for effect and declare that you have Acute viral nasopharyngitis as if it is a terminal illness and you want to know how many days more you have to live.

My trips to hospitals take this to the extreme - I find each experience more hilarious than the other. Not too long ago, I shared this with you and had another of the kind yesterday and today. DIL has been complaining of a pain in the gluteal region and I assumed it was an allusion to her boss. It turned out that she had a huge abscess in that region and the quack she went to initially treated it like a pimple and gave her a couple of painkillers which did nothing to reduce the pain. For a couple of days we waited for it to burst on its own and it just grew worse. So finally we decided to go to one of the fancy hospitals closer to home.

We completed the registration formality and she was sent in to see the doctor while I waited in the waiting area. The doctor examined the affected area and explained that it was an abscess and asked her if she knew what that meant. She replied in the affirmative (Let me kiss the hands that created Google). Then he recommended an I and D procedure to drain the fluids and she said "ok." May be he expected her to panic or react a bit more. The unperturbed OK seemed to have confused him. So he again asked her if she knew what he meant. At this point she thought that probably there was more to it and she did not know what he meant and called me in. But the doctor was too busy initiating the admission procedure to notice my entry on the scene. After several phone calls to surgery, admissions, registrar and back to surgery, he finally noticed me and said "we are admitting her." I asked him why and he explained that the procedure was the only way she was going to be rid of the pain and there was no way the abscess would comply with our wishes and burst on its own. 'But surely there was a way to do it without admission?' I queried.
'Then you won't be able to claim insurance. I am assuming you have insurance?' he said.
"Ok. you go now and get admitted. Don't be fussy about your choice of room. Take whichever they give you. Then you can have it changed tomorrow."
All this seemed like a huge emergency - getting admitted even before we knew who the surgeon was. May be the surgeon was going to be paged to come and perform the procedure right away.
'So when will the procedure be?'
"oh the surgeon will be in tomorrow morning. Dr Bhat will do it."
But of course, Dr.Bhat for an abscess in the butt!

So we went to the admissions counter, still a bit unsure of why she needed to be admitted and what the huge hurry was if the surgeon was coming in only in the morning.
Counter no. 5 or 6 , we were told and we asked the young man the procedure for admission.
"you pay 10000 and get admitted and before surgery you pay 80% of the operation cost" and then he went on to elaborate on the forms required from the insurance guys.
My thoughts went: '10,000 for a boil - ok ok that is trivialising it a little. It is NOT a boil but an abscess but 10 k for an I n D procedure?'
"And can we have the type of room we want?" asked DIL sounding like she was booking rooms in a resort.
"No ma'm, we only have the general room that is shared by 3 people."
"And the bathrooms?" asked DIL probably hoping every bed had a bathroom attached.
"They are shared too."
That was the clincher. We did not want to go in with a boil and pick up more infections sharing rooms with people with other ailments. And certainly not share bathrooms with strangers.
So we decided to have a chat with the surgeon and take a call on the admission while making a booking for a separate room.
We went back this morning and the surgeon simply drained the fluid without so much as local anesthesia and neatly dressed the affected part and told her she could go back to her normal life. Total cost:consultation Rs.350+ RS. 320 toward lab charges for the Pus culture and Rs.303.21 toward cost of medicines.
We still do not know why we were being hurried into admitting her with an advance payment of 10 k. May be the first doctor missed the classes on the day they taught A for abscess. Or may be he gets his bonus based on the income to the hospital from his clients.

We do see a lot more cases of surgeries that people undergo these days - I wonder if the instances of surgeries have increased since the availability of insurance claim. At least there are a lot more cases of by-pass surgeries these days. Is surgery becoming the first option in most cases just to be on the safer side? And because insurance covers the costs anyway? What about the side effects of surgery etc?
I do know a lot of people who prefer to get admitted rather than be treated as Outpatients even for simple procedures - so that it is covered by insurance. Otherwise they would have to pay it out of their pocket. No wonder there is such a demand for beds.
And what about cases that really need surgery but where people cannot come up with 10k+ 80% of the cost of operation immediately? It could be a Saturday and banks do not open till Monday or one of those many bank-strike days or festival holidays - what happens then? We could get away laughing about the hilarious encounter but I am not sure it is so funny for many people who go to these hospitals.

Stereotypos

2008-11-14T17:53:00.008+07:00

In a comment on Mystic Life’s post dealing with stereotypes quite some time back, I had offered to do a post on the stereotypical ideas I grew up with. And then I got bogged down by so many other things that this kept getting postponed. Well, I could have blamed in on that stereotype - 'a woman's work is never done' but knowing me, you wouldn't believe it, would you?

Many of the stories I heard in my childhood reinforced the belief that suffering was the sure path to glory. They were always about endless trials and tribulations on earth and at the end of it all promise of eternal bliss, stardom or godhood. There was even a time when, as a child, I used to be suspicious of all rich people – if they had so much on this earth they couldn’t be good, could they? Or at least I was sure that they weren’t getting a place in heaven after their good time on earth. Women who were happily married did not get to merit the status of a great woman – you had to suffer like Sita, Draupati, Ahalya, Nalayini, Damayanti, Chandramati. This stereotype was further emphasised in my adolescent years through the films I saw. A good woman always suffered – she was usually married to some good-for-nothing alcoholic and/or wife beater with a good measure of paranoia . And how her patience and perseverance and faith finally help her reform this worthless specimen is the measure of her greatness. If only she had the good sense to send him to rehab, she and the audience could have been saved of a lot of misery. I was rather disappointed to see this same old concept used in some of the TV serials in recent times.

Another fallacy these childhood stories emphasized was the importance of sacrifice and self-abnegation. You needed to forego things, even when they were rightfully yours, to achieve greatness. Ram was great because he did not argue with his father about the stupidity of Kaikeyi’s demands. Lakshman was great because he followed Rama to the forest. Bharath was great because he would not ascend the throne. Bhishma was great because he renounced his claim to the throne and any prospect of marriage so that his father could marry someone he loved. There was this story which was popular in every Tamil household about 40 years ago. It was also popular because it had a funny tagline – ‘amma, amma Kozhakattaikku kannu undodee?’ (Mom, does the sweet dumpling have eyes?) This was about a girl in Cinderella-like situation. Only there was only one step-sister in this case. One day the step-mother, probably in a PMS moment, throws the girl out. And the girl wanders to the forest and finds a cottage where an old lady lives. After the initial introduction, the old lady asks her if she is hungry and what she’d like to eat. The girl settles for left-overs but the old lady protests and makes hot and tasty food for her. Then she asks the young girl where she’d like to sleep and the girl opts for a mat but the lady insists on giving her the softest mattress and pillow. You get the drift, don't you? While the girl always chooses the most austere of the options the lady insists on giving her the finest and the best. The next day she returns home laden with gifts from the old lady and the step mother is pleased. Now the step-sister decides to go and grab her share of goodies too from the old lady. So she goes to the old lady and demands the finest and the best but all she gets is some leftover food and a night on a torn mat . She returns home with a lot of advice and nothing more. Moral of the story, children: “Always set your heart on the basic necessities. You will be rewarded with the best if you are good and if you deserve it” I think this story was single-handedly responsible for creating a generation of children who were afraid to want the best for themselves.

And that brings me to the other stereotype – the wicked stepmother. You saw them everywhere - in fairy tales, in films, in stories. Stepmothers who spent all their time and energy persecuting their step daughters. One of my classmates had a step mother and the other girls spoke in whispers about her. We assumed that the girl was being beaten up everyday and starved and locked in a room. When my aunt died leaving 4 children behind, her husband decided to remarry and brought home an angel. She loved my cousins as her own children and worked really hard to bring them up on her husband’s limited income. She went without so many things but made sure that they didn’t go wanting for tasty food or nice clothes or a good education. But one of her step-daughters never accepted her because as a child she had heard that all step mothers were evil.

Many of the gender stereotypes that I had seen as a child are still around, although many of them are in the process of being thrown out. Ideas like it is not possible for a woman to be happy without a husband and a family or that women are genetically designed to take care of children and the family.('Biologically and temperamentally, I believe women were made to be concerned first and foremost with child care, husband care and home care' - Dr. benjamin Spock)
One of my vivid memories from childhood is hearing an adult dismiss a woman as being unwomanly because she whistled. No she didn’t whistle at anyone – she just whistled a song in the privacy of her bedroom. He happened to be visiting and heard it and that was enough for him to pronounce her ‘unwomanly’ – not un-lady-like but Un-woman-ly!! A ‘good’ woman did not whistle, wear revealing clothes, drink alcoholic beverages or smoke,; She did not swear; she put her needs after everybody else’s. She was seen ( mostly as another man’s shadow) and hardly ever heard to assert herself.

While many of these traditional stereotypes have been left behind by the current generations , there are other stereotypes today on what constitutes being ‘cool’ and ‘uncool’, what is ‘hot’ and what is not and above all, what constitutes physical beauty. In earlier times it was society that had a stake in creating and sustaining stereotypes but today it seems to be a multi-billion dollar industry. And perhaps that is what would make these stereotypes that much harder to reject.

Head fake

2008-10-02T21:33:00.008+07:00

Thank you all for the warm response to my previous post - When I read those comments some of them felt like gentle pats on the shoulder, warm palm squeezes and hugs. This spontaneous and unselfish display affection in the blogosphere never ceases to amaze me. Reminds me of the words on a poster I saw somewhere -'There are no strangers in this world - only friends we haven't met yet.'
I am fine thank you. The tone of the post may have been a bit misleading - a bit of a head fake.

Head fake? I just learnt this term and am showing off actually. Apparently this technique is used in basketball where the player looks in one direction while actually moving in another with the intention to mislead the opponent. I recently read Randy Pausch's book "The Last Lecture" where he talks about this technique:

When we send our kids to play organized sports -football, soccer, swimming, whatever - for most of us, it's not because we're desperate for them to learn the intricacies of the sport.
What we really want them to learn is far more important: teamwork, perseverance, sportsmanship, the value of hard work, an ability to deal with adversity. This kind of indirect learning is what some of us like to call a 'head fake."
There are two kinds of head fakes. The first is literal. On a football field, a player will move his head one way so you'll think he's going in that direction. Then he goes in the opposite way. it's like a magician using misdirection. Coach graham used to tell us to watch a player's waist. "Where his belly button goes, his body goes," he'd say.
The second kind of head fake is the really important one - the one that teaches people things they don't realize they're learning until well into the process. if you're a head fake specialist, your hidden objective is to get them to learn something you want them to learn.

Pausch who was a professor of Computer Science at Carnegie Mellon was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in September 2006 and all treatment failed to arrest its spread and in August 2007 he had been given nothing more than 3 to 6 months good health. At 45, married for just 8 years and with three children 5, 3 and 1, Pausch decided to make the most of what was left of his life by living everyday to the fullest possible extent. Accepting the fact that his children would have to grow up without a father he decided build some wonderful memories with them in the short time left which would help them remember their father later in their life. And yet he agreed to devote a lot of his precious time to do a lecture for the students at the university. In reality he intended the whole lecture titled 'Achieving your childhood dreams' to be his talk for his children containing all the wisdom that he wanted them to have from their father's life and beliefs. That was the head fake.

On September 18, 2007 Randy Pausch delivered his last lecture at Carnegie Mellon. His book 'The last lecture' was published in April 2008. Randy Pausch died on July 25th, 2008. The book is a simple narration of the high and low points of his life and a tribute to people who influenced the course of his life. The mood is so positive at all times that it is easy to forget that the speaker has a few days left to live. Another of his famous head fake techniques perhaps.

P.s: So what was the head fake in my post? I had seen some mother-in-law bashing around the blogosphere and I thought I might get people to see things from a new M-I-L's perspective. Just hoping that would let them view their own a little more charitably.

In which I am a specimen

2008-09-24T20:55:00.023+07:00

I am always amused by something or other when I go for for the annual medical examination (which, by the way, I do once in 3 years when threatened at knife point by my Gynaec). For me it is just a chore to be completed to keep my physician quiet for another year (or three) but when I look at the others in the same room I suspect that this may have a far profounder significance - like some sort of a war against disease or something. My amusement starts when I watch people deliver samples of urine and stools. Most people put them in plastic covers and then add a good length of BOPP tape to make sure that the contents don't spill out and then put it in another plastic cover which they staple neatly. Only thing that is missing is a gift wrapping. Outside the room for sample collection, they carefully unwrap the package and deliver the contents. It was the same this morning but even I was shocked when two Kissan Jam bottles emerged out of one such package - I was quite curious to know just what quantity the person decided to give for the test! I think he did not want to take any chances and brought the entire output of that morning!

Ultrasonography is technology's revenge on human beings - that scanner moving on cold gel applied over your abdomen, tickling you all over when your bladder is full is sheer torture. I usually go through it by switching off from my immediate surroundings and letting my thoughts wander to scenes which have nothing to do with water. Normally the doctor asks a few routine questions and goes about his business without engaging the patient in conversation. This one today was also the same but all of a sudden while taking the scanner over my navel he decided to ask me "Actually where are you from?" The question did not register initially and I blurted out: "What?"
I think when you lay on a table with your fat belly and all the abdominal tires exposed, you do not think of manners and politeness. Normally my response would have been "pardon?" or "sorry?" but I said "What?" As plain as that, and the doctor repeated the question. "Actually where are you from?' I do not know why he decided to ask me this question. was this his version of navel-gazing? or did my navel reveal something which made him suspect that I might be an alien creature or something? Did he suspect I was hiding something? I would never know but I gave an honest response and went back to wondering what might have prompted this strange question. Someday when and if I meet the doctor in more pleasant circumstances, I will perhaps ask him for an explanation.

Then came the mammography test. While I was in an unseemly state of undress waiting for the mammogram to be inflicted on me, the technician walked in along with three or four other young girls. I do not know if they are medical interns or apprentice technicians or just some school girls on a trip to the hospitals. I think it might be the last because one girl actually asked "ma'm , is the mammography test only for the breast or is it done for other parts also?" Can this be from a doctor or a medical student? If yes, I am worried about the future of humanity. Anyway, during the mammogram and the mammo sonogram which followed, I found myself becoming a specimen rather than a person who had paid through her nose for the test. Midway through the sonogram, the doctor would stop and tell the girls: "look at these lymph nodes. But presence of these does not necessarily confirm Cancer." And in my mind I would go: 'WHAT? Did she just say CANCER?" and make a mental list of all the things I should do in the little time I may have. When this went on for some time I wanted to protest but then endured it all in the cause of the medical profession. As my reward the doctor cleared my case as having 'no problem'.

Anyway after spending 5k and wasting 5 hours in a million tests, undressing and redressing a few million times, the doctor pronounced what was standing between me and perfect health : 9 kgs.of excess baggage, I mean body weight. As if I did not know that already. This is precisely why I am sceptical of these annual health check-up s (checks-up?) or whatever. I think it is a ruse devised by hospitals to make you pay and then become a 'specimen' on their tables to teach other interns and apprentices. Ok ok, not really but you understand my frustration, don't you? I have had a hard day, please don't argue with me.

Heaven is a place where there are friends

2008-09-02T08:26:00.011+07:00

There is this yuppy couple in my neighbourhood. Their life represents all the aspirations of today's younger generation - dream jobs in which they are successful; a large house fitted with the most modern equipment, art on the walls, dream kitchens (used by the servants and cooks) and elegant bathrooms, a small gym and a mini swimming pool in the basement. Their cars are large and one of the two, ofcourse ,is an SUV. Their weekdays are packed with them coming home just in time for dinner. Their children get the best of everything that money can buy. Only thing they cannot afford them is time of which they have so little. Their weekends are busy too with getting ready for the next week and obligatory socialising. They hardly know their neighbours nor seem to care. There are times they are face to face with you but forget to smile - either they are too preoccupied and do not recognise you or they are hurrying from or to something. They have two small children and this family of four uses the services of a cook, a live-in domestic help, a part-time domestic help, a driver and a guy who comes to walk and groom their dog.
Yes, a dog to complete the picture of perfection. And not just any dog - a dog from a line of superior dogs. He is a dog who loves people and craves human company. He is a bundle of energy, highly intelligent ( his comes from a breed of highly intelligent dogs) and a gentle soul with the sweetest temperament and of course a very alert guard. Like their kids, he gets the best money can buy - imported food, best veterinary care, shampoo baths in dog care clinics, an ex-policeman to come and train him. But does he care? No, all he wants is a little socialising - a little ruffling of his luxurious coat, a few minutes to bounce the ball to him and to sleep at the feet of his master. And he tries telling them that in the only ways he knows to communicate - he barks and furiously wags his tail to catch their attention every time they walk in and out of the house and all he gets is a firm "NO." When they are inside the house he waits outside the door, stretching his ears to catch any sound from inside and when they are out of the house he waits at the gate for them to return. Hoping perhaps that one day they will notice him and give him a hug. Not realising that for him they may be his family but for them he is just a worker.

And then last month, the man of the house had to leave on his new posting abroad. And so the wife and two children have shifted to another apartment they own just a km away, along with the domestic helps. And he is left all by himself to guard the house - they have employed a person to feed him, groom him and take him for a walk but it is heart-breaking to see him rush to the gate every time there are footfalls on the street outside his house. When I wake up I see him at the gate patiently waiting and when I go to bed he is there hoping they'd come and may be take him with them. Does he wonder where everyone has gone? Does he wonder why they have abandoned him?

I am reminded of Ulysses and his dog Argos. I think of a colleague who was transferred to Mumbai where he could not take his dog because of the apartment rules and his dog stopped eating and died in 3 months' time. I go to him and try to talk to him as often as I can but I can see it is not the same. I have been angry - the kind of anger which harms you because you are helpless to do anything about the cause. I offered to take him in or to find him a house but their response has been rather vague perhaps because they have invested so much and would like him to guard their house now empty.

Why do these creatures have to be so attached to their masters? Haven't they lived long enough with humans to learn of their selfishness and to expect a lot less from them? I think there ought to be strict laws on who can own a pet and their obligations towards them which should cover a lot more than just giving them the best money can buy. But then, I do not blame these people too. It seems that this is the way they treat people too, their own children and parents. Their way of expressing love and care is to buy expensive gifts for them. Only difference is people seem to be ok with it while dogs still seem to have different priorities. Too bad fellow, learn the rules.
Never get attached to one employer. This will stand in the way of your growth and progress.
Loyalty is passe. It is all about the best deal you can get for your services.
And above all, don't have high expectations from your masters. They are , after all, human.

P.s.: Ok, rant over. But I had to get the steam off my chest. This was bothering me so much for the past week that I have been rather depressed. I hoped to feel better after putting it down here but I don't. I suppose this whole situation could be just a matter of perspective - how I perceive it vis a vis the reality. May be the dog feels no such separation anxiety and I am just anthropomorphing my anxiety about the situation as the dog's. Perhaps he is happy to wait at the gate forever and has no perception of the passage of time. Perhaps he seems to have lost weight because he is gaining in height. Perhaps I am totally wrong about the situation, I sincerely hope so.
Further reading optional...

*******************************************************

This is an email forward that made me feel better . Read on and you will know why:

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road.. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight..

When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?'

'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.

'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.
'Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.'
The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

'Can my friend,' gesturing toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveller asked. 'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued back the way he had come with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'
'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.'
'How about my friend here?' the traveller gestured to the dog.
'There should be a bowl by the pump.'

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveller filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

'What do you call this place?' he asked.

'This is Heaven,' the man answered.
'Well, that's confusing,' the traveller said. 'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too..'
'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope That's hell.'
'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your good name like that?'
'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind'

History?Herstory?

2008-07-19T00:05:00.007+07:00

Jodha Akbar – a tale of tender love in the jungle of politics ridden with conspiracy, maneuvres and strategy where marriages were more like business deals and kinship ensured loyalty. Despite the glaring liberties with historic accuracy, I loved the film and wished it were true. It seemed so right for Hritik Jalaluddin to have a wife like Aishwarya Jodha. Not that I wanted to believe that she was the woman behind all that made Emperor Jalaluddin earn the title of ‘Akbar’; but because they seemed so right as a couple united by a love that made nonsense of every difference in their union to start with.

Then I read ‘The feast of roses’ by Indu Sundaresan – a story based on the lives of Jahangir and Nurjahan – how the emperor surrendered himself and all his authority at the altar of love for his twentieth wife Meherunnissa. She was practically the ruler for the next 16 years of Jahangir’s rule. While the work itself is fiction, it is a fact of history that Jahangir depended on Nurjahan’s advice on every matter of administration and she was the most powerful empress among the Moghul dynasty.

And then Shahjahan whose name is readily recognised for the monument he built as a dedication to his Love - a tomb for his wife Arjumand better known as Mumtaz mahal. The Taj has remained on top of the Love charts for over 350 years and has become another synonym for love.

Looking at these Moghul kings, I have wondered what gave them this ability to love with such intensity and devotion, while most other kings were too preoccupied with running their kingdoms while paying little attention to their love life or even to their wives. And it seems natural too, given their responsibilities. Do we even know the names of the wives of Ashoka, Harshavardhana or Chandragupta Vikramaditya? Or Babur and Aurangzeb?

What made these three men different? Was it something in their genetic composition - a romantic streak? Were they men who cared more for their women and hence knew how to make them feel special with their love? But then one remembers that they all had several wives and singled out one special wife for all this special attention. How come we remember them for their one special love while we do not think of their neglect of or indifference to all those other wives? In fact singling out a wife for such extravagant attention and love must have been terrible, even cruel to all their other wives, some of them princesses and women of great substance perhaps. Imagine not getting so much as a footnote in history while one wife gets 20 pages!

Or perhaps the credit should actually go to these three women who were so special that the kings could not treat them like just another wife? I am sure that one has to do a lot more than just bear 14 kids to an emperor to merit a Tajmahal. So what was she like? Any thoughts?

Why does a woman need a man?

2008-07-09T09:44:00.010+07:00

This is a regular scene at certain vantage points in our layout in the afternoons. Maids who have finished work at the respective houses drift towards these points where they exchange betel leaves and areca and plenty of gossip. This is perhaps their equivalent of blogsphere, where they recount,share,counsel and of course, gossip. Nothing is sacred, no privacy restrictions - whether it is about their private lives or that of the people in the houses they work. Their network is a source of more detailed and authentic news than the ladies' club or the men's network where information is shared in bits, implied rather than explicitly stated and where everyone likes to gossip while seeming to be least interested in the private business of others. I do not know if it is because I am not part of any of these networks that my maid feels the need to relay local news to me every now and then. Most of them I switch off after the headlines except when it is about a birth or a death or illness. But it is never just the news as it is always padded with their views and opinions and I am fascinated by the simple set of rules they have for everything to decide if it is good, bad or awful.

This morning she told me about another maid who was working in the next lane. She worked all day in their house and very often a person calling himself her brother used to visit her. Last night she went away with him leaving her family. She called her employers to inform them that she had resigned from work! She is married to a person with one dysfunctional leg and has three kids. My maid was furious and peppered the whole narration with many curse words and finally pronounced "With this kind of behaviour does she really think she is going to be able to live happily? she will starve without anything to eat and she will die of a horrible disease for doing this to her husband and children."

I asked her if she knew if that woman was in an abusive marriage and if she was very unhappy. My maid did not know but said that all this was irrelevant after 3 kids and the woman should have stayed back for the kids and thrown out the husband if he was abusive. 'Why did she need another man?' was her question.
My maid herself was abandoned by her husband a few years after their marriage and has had to bring up her 3 children all alone. She never had another man in her life for the past 20 years. She accepts it as her fate and the correct way of life. So I totally understand where she is coming from. And having grown up in a milieu with similar values and norms, I cannot pretend to be shocked or surprised by her take on the woman.

"why does she need another man?" - the implication was that she was after sex. It is sad that it is still not considered ok for a woman to want sex. It has always been accepted that men needed sex and so even if their wife died, they were encouraged to marry as soon as the grieving period was over. One of the arguments handed out for legalising prostitution is that a lot of men do not have the opportunity to marry or stay with their wives and they need outlet for their sexual desires. A woman's sexual needs are still frowned upon and they are quickly dubbed as nymphomaniac if they are open about their desires or needs.It is even considered something to be ashamed of. The number of children that a couple has had is hardly an indicator of a sexually fulfilling life. Today we know that even without proper intercourse, conception is possible if the sperm manages to reach the egg. A drunken husband using her to satisfy his needs is hardly fulfilling for a woman. Many women still marry early and hardly know their husbands before marriage. It takes a few years for them even to be comfortable about sex and realise whether they are actually compatible at all. By the time they are sexually aware and awake most women have already been married for a few years and mothered a few children. I am not talking about the urban elite here but this is true in most rural and semi-urban settings and lower economic strata and even in the urban areas among conservative families.

Many years ago an incident happened in our extended family. This was a family of three brothers. The youngest died a couple of years after his marriage leaving his beautiful wife and a one year old child. As was the custom in those days, she stayed in the house of her parents in law along with the other brothers and their wives. One of the brothers was attracted to her and she was young too and they ended up in a relationship. When the boy was old enough to go to high school the uncle shifted them to the neighbouring city where he 'visited' them frequently. One afternoon the thirteen year old boy returned home early and found the mother and uncle in bed. That night the boy hanged himself.

This story has haunted me from my teens. I have always tried to justify the woman on the grounds of her vulnerable position and her dependence on the brothers-in-law for financial and moral support. She was not college educated and did not possess qualifications required for an employment. She needed them and hence she could not antagonise the brother in law's advances. This seemed a good version as it justified her behaviour in my moral framework. A helpless woman, a predatory man - that was ok. A woman whose sexuality was waking up and who needed a man to satisfy her desires? NO, that would have been terrible, preposterous. In my books then, "Good women" didn't do such things. And certainly not when they had a child to think of. "Why does she need another man?" that would have been my question too then. But now I know better.
A Tamil writer (perhaps Thi janakiraman) said in a story that there must be a strong reason for a woman to go astray. Is her sexual need strong enough reason, I wonder?

added after 4 comments:
I am not passing any value judgements on the two women as I do not know why they were motivated to act in the way they did.
In the first case, it could have been forced marriage and the children happened because she did not have access to protection and perhaps her husband was forcing her into sex which she never enjoyed. Obviously there was a strong motive that encouraged her to take such a step even while being aware of burning all her boats.
In the second case it happened about 50 years ago. She was in her early twenties in a house where two other young couple lived. She could not even have dreamt of remarriage even without a child. Was it wrong that she had the normal desires of flesh?
If anyone had a business to object, it was the man's wife and she did not. Remember this was a time when men were openly flaunting their affairs with concubines and mistresses as a mark of their virility?
This was also a time when young widows living in Benares were sent to rich zamindars houses in the night. So what exactly are we objecting to? The fact of a widow having sex or wanting it?
Even today if you were to pose the question 'why does a woman need a man?' the answers would be 'for emotional and moral support' , 'to have children', 'for financial support', 'for love' etc but the fact of a woman needing man for sex is never mentioned. Try asking the same about why a man needs a woman and no prizes for guessing the top answer!

If you have eyes to put, put them here...

2008-07-01T12:36:00.008+07:00

One of the regular readers of this blog enquired about the lack of posts for a week now. When I said that I didn’t seem to have anything to write about apart from being a little busy, she said “writer’s block? That must be because of all the drishti. You just boasted about 500 posts and see it has affected you immediately.”
Of course she was joking as neither of us believe in all this kann drishti/ buri nazar/ evil eye theory and find it amusing when not being irritated by it.

While growing up in our house in Chennai, we had rented out a portion to a family and every friday evening , they had a ritual to remove the effects of evil eyes that may have been cast on the members of the family. The grandmother of the house made them all sit together and held some chillies and salt in her fist and made circles in front of them – 3 times clockwise and 3 times anti clockwise, all the time murmuring something about defusing all bad eyes . During this process no one was allowed to speak. After this, she threw the chillies and salt on some live coal kept in the backyard. While we choked over the pungent smoke that wafted from the backyard into our side of the house, she always commented , “see, so many chillies and yet no trace of any pungency. That is all the drishti (evil eye) that has made the chillies so bland.”

The funny part was that we did not understand what was attracting all these alleged evil eyes to the members of their house – they were very ordinary people in every way, nothing exceptional, no super achievers. Apart from this weekly ritual, there were extraordinary drishti removing sessions if a child was sick or had a decreased appetite or if anyone came first in class or wore something new. Basically it appeared that the whole world had its evil eye focused on that family and every event in their house was something they looked upon with jealousy. The rest of us in the house were even scared to look at them properly or compliment them on anything for fear of being accused of casting drishti on them. Among ourselves though, in our irreverent way we called it ‘eye-putting’ (as a literal translation of the term in Tamil which was ‘kann podradu’ meaning casting eye). It was all so amusing to us that while playing if anyone sneezed or fell down we would make them sit on some steps and pronounce that people have kann potufied on her. Then one of us would imitate the ‘nazar utharna’ process of that old lady and we would all go into silly giggles. We were a wicked lot!

We were chided for this by the older people in our houses too who did not completely dismiss the power of evil eye in bringing distress to the object of the negative feelings but mercifully they drew the line at putting a black dot on children’s cheek or forehead to neutralise anything negative. I considered the old lady of the neighbourhood as a bit of a freak but over the years, I have been surprised that there is a similar superstition in almost every part of the country and across all levels of society – black dots, a string of chillies, crushing a lemon, burning camphor, breaking white pumpkin, hanging a scary face drawn on a pumpkin or made of papier mache and so on.

It is interesting how people fear losing their wealth, health or happiness by becoming the object of jealousy. In all this fear and insecurity they become incapable of accepting genuine appreciation without fearing that they are about to lose whatever it is that invited the appreciation. In fact, sometimes, I am scared to offer open praise about how beautiful and healthy a child looks or even how lovely someone’s house is. I don’t want them to blame my evil eye every time the child sneezes or has loose stools or there is an air- crack on their walls. Why should people be so insecure about what they have earned or achieved? Why do they fear losing something they know they deserve? or don’t they feel they actually deserve it?

At the root of it all, there seems to be a kind of acceptance that misery is a natural state and happiness is temporary even if you have worked for it and earned it; and an inability to have pure happiness with one's successes and prosperity without a tinge of guilt or fear. It seems that there is only so much supply of happiness and prosperity and you should feel guilty about having cornered a big chunk of it! So one fears losing one’s good fortune by flaunting it openly and attracting the evil eye through jealous thoughts. Perhaps these customs evolved to temper overt exhibition of wealth and conspicuous consumption so one did not increase the misery of the have-nots through comparison. It also became a convenient excuse to explain away failures and losses and sudden fluctuations in one's fortunes – ‘it is sombody else’s doing, not mine’.

When my son was about 4 months old he had a severe attack of bronchitis and he suffered from acute wheezing trouble. So his health had its waxing and waning phases every month. And my neighbours invariably advised me to do something to remove the effect of evil eyes. It was tough to resist when the issue in question was my child’s health but I refused to comply. He was cured by homeopathy and I don’t think the medicine had anything to do with defusing the drishti. But my good friends and colleagues often argued why I was so adamant about something so harmless which might, just might, do some good. This is why it is tough to get rid of superstitions because most of them seem totally harmless and if they worked, it was fine; if they didn’t, nothing lost. May be. But I wasn’t going to be party to something that cast a doubt on the rest of humanity as having an evil eye.

So there, I have told you, I do not have any problem about acceptance of your open praises and eulogies. So in case you have been holding them back for fear of being mistaken for kannu pottufying, please pull all stops and bring them on.

shhhh ...

2008-06-19T10:56:00.008+07:00

Lekhni
desires that I reveal 10 secrets about myself. I wish I had so many secrets - that would make me so mysterious and intriguing. But given my penchant to talk about everything in the open, I wonder if I can even dig up 2 or 3. But a tag MUST be respected - it is an unwritten code of blogging culture, an integral part of good blogging behaviour so I would rather invent some secrets about me than break the tag.
So some of the following are true and some aren't. Let us see if you figure out the false ones.

With all my bitchy posts about Karan Joker and Shahrukh Khkhkhan, I watch every program hosted by them.(the slime!)

I actually bought a tube of fair and lovely cream once to see if it would help get rid of the black patches on my arms! ( so sue me)

I lick the cake box clean before throwing it in the trashcan and the foil that covers the cornetto? mmm yum... Now of course I give it to Munni. Can't bear to see such good chocolate or cream go waste. (even the birds have a word for me. cheep, cheep!)

I am not comfortable eating with a knife and fork. I usually come back hungry after such parties. (Junglee, country bumpkin -ya,that's me alright. But then why do you think nature gave you fingers? and seriously, have you ever tried licking a finger after curd rice? losers!)

I was offered a role in a film once. ( well, I thought Sridevi needed it more than me. I could always find another career. Poor Shri!)

I never learnt to swim because I could not bear to be seen in a swim suit. (I was ashamed of my 36-24-35 figure. go figure!)

I feel bad to give an honest opinion when people ask for my honest opinion on some personal issue. I would sooner kill myself than say something to hurt them. (but tell me when people want your honest opinion on what I think of their fiance/e, how they look, how good is the glass painting they made etc. do they really want you to be honest?)

I always look at the prices on the menu before ordering in a restaurant. I can never buy something simply because I want it unless I know the price and know it is worth so much for me. Even if someone else who can well afford it is buying it for me.
(I know, totally middle class saar. what to do, we are like this only.)

I can't sleep without a blanket and my ears should be covered.(If I cant hear them monsters they can't hear me also right, that's the idea I suppose!)

I cannot count up to 10. I always say 10 after 8. So that is ten now!

This was tough. So I am not naming anyone to take it up. But if any of you like it, please feel free and do it secretly.

Restoration of virginity

2008-06-13T16:50:00.013+07:00

There was a time when the word Virgin was only used in the feminine. It referred to ‘a woman who has had no carnal knowledge of a man' as answers.com nicely puts it. But in fact it refers to ‘a person who has never had sexual intercourse’ as Merriam –Webster clearly enunciates. In many cultures especially in Africa, Asia and middle-east, a woman’s virginity is a matter of societal concern whereas it is a matter of individual choice in the case of a man. Most societies do not worry about the virgin status of a man before his marriage whereas for a woman it is a matter of honour – not only hers, but her family’s and the whole community’s; hence the practice of ‘honor killings’ among certain sects even today when a woman has sexual relations before being married.

While virginity has lost most of its sheen in the western world, even today there are communities where they look for blood on the nuptial bedsheet as a proof of the bride’s virginity. Many African communities go one step backward and insist on a certificate of virginity from their family doctor before the wedding. Since the revelation of not being certified a virgin could lead to dishonour, shame and in extreme cases ‘honor killing’ many young muslim women resort to surgical restoration of their hymens to pass the virginity test.
This article in NYtimes quotes a doctor saying that he performs this procedure 2 to 4 times a week. Such is the kind of demand.

‘So is virginity about abstinence or is it about having the hymen intact?” I asked a young man. He was outraged and said that one meant the other in his culture and so this was a silly question. I gently reminded him of the story of Madhavi, daughter of yayati from Hindu mythology.
Munikumar Galav, a student of Rishi Viswamitra was arrogant enough to ask his guru to name the gurudakshina he wanted. So the rishi named the impossible and asked for 800 white aswamedha worthy horses with black ears. There were 600 horses but in the possession of 3 different kings. Galav sought the help of king Yayati who was spending his life in an asram. Yayati’s daughter Madhavi was extremely beautiful and had been blessed with the ability to renew her virginity and youth when she wanted. She had also been blessed that every son she bears would be a powerful one, a Chakravarthy. Yayati gave her to Galav who then sent her in turn to all the 3 kings to get the horses in return for spending a year with each of them and bearing them a son. The last 200 horses were with Viswamitra himself and she had to spend a year with him. After helping him fulfil his promise, Madhavi goes back to Galav who rejects her as she has lived with his guru and hence cannot become his wife. *

I suppose the renewal of virginity referred to in the story is nothing but the restoration of hymen. What else could it mean? (Incidentally Guinea pigs are supposed to have this characteristic too – their hymen dissolves during their mating season and grows back when not in heat). So then virginity was not about abstinence but just about a mucous membrane forming the external lining of the vagina.
The young friend was agitated. “no, this was different. She did it for a noble purpose. She did not do it for her enjoyment.”
Now this was even more confusing. Was he saying that it was ok to have intercourse as long as the woman did not enjoy it? Did that somehow make her a “good” woman as compared to someone who indulged in sex for pleasure? So how were these vestal virgins who abhorred sex become active sexual partners the minute they were married? Would that explain questions in "ask your doc" columns: "dear doc, my wife is not very co-operative in bed. She performs mechanically. She refuses to try new stuff. My sex life is nearly non-existent" etc...

I remember a conversation many years ago with some male classmates on why they would like to marry a virgin. These were some of their reasons::
-I want someone who keeps her virginity intact for me as a special gift.
- A woman who has let her desires get the better of her cannot be a ‘good’ woman, a ‘chaste’ woman who can be depended upon to be a ‘good’ wife and bear ‘good’ children.
- A woman who has sexually experimented may be promiscuous even after marriage which isn’t good for the family.
- I cannot handle an “out of control” woman.

Well, it is a matter of personal preference and I know a lot of women who agree on the virtue of being a virgin (almost 99% of all women I know in fact). Sex is a very personal matter and how and when they want to have it and whether they want to have it at all should be nobody else’s concern. The only thing I find difficult to comprehend in all these arguments is that somehow it is supposed to make a person morally better than a person who is not a virgin. Why is a person’s goodness judged by their sexual life?
In my family, I have heard about some virgin widows spewing venom on the other women of the family. I wrote about one such in this post. Even psychologists agree that repression can be a source of frustration and anger and such people may be expected to be more hurtful towards others.

To me it seems that virginity is just a physical state which has no correlation with the person being good or bad, moral or amoral especially in today’s context where men and women marry late. It is perfectly alright if someone prefers a virgin as a partner but there is absolutely no reason to stigmatise people who are not virgins as bad, immoral, sinful, dishonourable, shameful or out of control. And the converse is true too - being a virgin doesn't automatically qualify one to be classified as a better human. It is just a matter of individual preference and should be their own business and nobody else’s.

* Read a wonderful review of the play "Madhavi " here. Story of every woman indeed!

Random Quotes

2008-06-04T18:54:00.007+07:00

A-kay tags me. This is so different from the tags I have done which are usually about me, myself.
So what are the rules of this one?
"Pick up the nearest book." - Yes, ma'm . here, what's this? Being Indian by Pavan Varma. (nice book)
"Open to page 123." - Okiee ( wonder where this is going...)
"Find the fifth sentence." - That's easy, I can count up to 10!
"Post the next three sentences."

In James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a young man, the character Stephen Daedalus expresses the anguish of an Irishman at having to speak English: '
The language in which we`are speaking is his (the Englishman's) before it is mine. How different are the words home, Christ, ale, master on his lips and on mine! I cannot speak or write these words without unrest of spirit. His language, so familiar and so foreign, will always be for me an acquired speech. I have not made or accepted its words. My voice holds them at bay. My soul frets in the shadow of his language.'
Indians have fretted too in trying to learn English, but their souls do not appear to have been in much anguish.
(I know that is more than three. There was a reason: Three sentences would have made no sense. So I posted the whole paragraph. Nice food for thought there, no?)

Now what?
"Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you."

I know Altoid would like this and Dotthoughts? I know I can always depend on JLT. Two more? Ok, where are you Padma, come to my rescue. I am sure you are reading something interesting. Itchingtowrite, I know you read a lot. Come on, take it up.

And as I was just about to press the publish button, Laksh tagged me for the same. Word has gone out about my expertise in tag posts and I am in great demand for tags as you can see. hm........the price you pay for fame. hehehe

P.s: Noticed that Fluff_n_stuff has tagged me too for this one.

Speaking of traditions...

2008-05-30T18:22:00.012+07:00

All through my childhood and teens I wasted a lot of time and effort in pleasing people around me. Somehow it seemed important to keep everyone else happy even if it meant neglect of one’s own happiness. Part of this behaviour could be blamed on nature but lot of it was nurture. In the environment in which I grew up a girl was never allowed to forget that she would one day go into another house and it was very important to be accepted by everyone there by winning them over with one’s kindness, generosity, and willingness to sacrifice and put one’s needs after everyone else’s. And the training began in one’s own house from a very young age. Looking around one saw that it was the norm in the family – women who slogged away from pre-dawn to late hours in the night for the family, women who suffered in the hands of in-laws and husbands and never complained. Living in a family steeped in traditional ways, the injustices were not obvious. It seemed just the way of life and a very normal one at that. And the irony was that these very same women who were victims of traditions were also its chief guardians and keepers of culture. It was their duty to ensure that the traditions were preserved and passed on to successive generations!

True, these traditions were attributed a lot of significance , symbolism and mysticism in order to make them worthy of being preserved. It is all about packaging right? Like a jihadi suicide bomber feeling important about his mission and expecting reward in the life after, women carried on the yoke of tradition and even felt proud of it.

I do not know exactly when but somewhere in my 30s I began to question traditions and began to discard practices which did not seem relevant to my life. I had no problem removing the mangalsutra or not wearing a bindi or not observing fasts (vrats) to ensure my husband had a long life. As for brahminical practices such as madi, echil, pathu and theetu, I discarded them the moment I had my own kitchen.
For the uninitiated , these are Tamil words and I only know the Tamil words for these practices and this is what they roughly are.
Madi is when you ensure purity of the occasion with a head bath and wearing washed clothes that have been untouched by anyone who is not observing madi. In case of accidental contact with someone who is not in a madi state, they bathe again and wear fresh madi clothes or wet clothes to renew their Madi. This is a superior form of untouchability not to be confused with the untouchability practised among castes and was constitutionally abolished.

Echil ( literally meaning Saliva) is mixing food from one another’s plate or touching anything with the same hand while eating food. For example while eating, if you touch the vessel containing rice with the hand that is being used to eat , you have sullied all the rice in the vessel with your echil. Consequence: it becomes unfit for consumption by others and has to be entirely consumed by the person who has sullied it or thrown away. So every time you have touched echil you have to wash your hand before touching anything else with the same hand.

Pathu: Cooked items are usually not mixed with uncooked items like curd, milk, salt, water, oil etc. You cannot touch them with the same hand with which you have touched cooked items. You touch the vessel containing curd with the same hand which has touched the cooked rice and all the curd becomes Pathu and cannot go back into the storage but has to be consumed or thrown away. One is supposed to wash hands every time after touching pathu items and before touching non pathu items. Complicated? ya, if you entered a traditional brahmin kitchen it would be full of people obsessively washing their hands between handling items pathu and non-pathu.

Theetu: This is the opposite of madi. It is a state of impurity when you have not had your bath. it is also observed for a certain number of days when there has been a death or birth in the family. During this period the family does not celebrate festivals or do puja (prayer). A mensturating woman was also considered impure ( theetu) when she had her monthly periods and was isolated. There has been a lot of discussion among Indian women bloggers about this practice in the past month and I am not about to add to all the fuss about a natural biological function in a fertile woman's body.
As far as I know it was essentially a practice among brahmins who were also great observers of madi. I refused to be isolated even as a 15 year old and if that made their gods angry, I was willing to face the consequences. But my sister in law told me how she had to sleep in the bathroom on ‘those’ days because they lived in a small house and there was no extra room where she could be kept isolated. As a teenager she spent those days in fear of cockroaches and rats that had a free run of the bathroom. That made my blood boil. I am not sure if God was happy with her family for treating her like that on her most vulnerable days. Enough said about my thoughts on the practice of isloating mensturating women.

Anyway as I said, I have discarded all these practices many years ago. I keep a safe distance from all these traditions in my normal day to day life and it poses no problem to anyone around me. But when there are occasions when I am forced to be part of functions which involve people who are deluded to be keepers of tradition and culture, I have trouble. I have a choice to pretend and follow tradition and please them or be true to myself and be unpopular. Not just unpopular but I also end up hurting their sentiments. Recently we had a family reunion and a wedding in the family was being discussed. I was shocked at the meaningless ceremonies people wanted to have and the amount of money budgeted for the same. I can understand their insistence on the basic rituals but when they introduced new practices because ‘everyone is doing it these days’ and justify it as a ‘new tradition’ I opened my mouth and became instantly unpopular.
N.e.w T.r.a.d.i.t.i.o.n? do you see the irony, the oxymoron?
If you do not, here is a definition of the word tradition:
1 a: an inherited, established, or customary pattern of thought, action, or behavior (as a religious practice or a social custom)
(thanks: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/tradition)

It doesn’t matter that I or the other person can afford the additional expenditure. It does not matter that by silent acquiescence I can keep a lot of people happy. I do not want to be guilty of being a party to some custom which may become part of ‘tradition’ in the coming years adding to the financial burden of some middle-class tradition-fearing parent in the years to come. simple? sensible? Why is it so difficult to get it across to otherwise intelligent people?

Traditions can be a security blanket when you need something to give you a sense of comfort and belonging. This probably explains the enthusiasm with which the Indian diaspora religiously celebrate festivals in their new homes - celebrating Holi, when it is not heralding spring in their country of residence and Sankranti when it is not harvest time. Tradition can provide a framework for one's life, it can give guidelines but the minute it begins to oppress a certain section of people, it requires re-examination. There is something seriously lacking in your tradition if it needs fear and authority to keep it alive and if it falls flat on its face when faced with rational examination. Such traditions should be questioned and it is ok to discard them if they make no sense in the world we are actually living in. They were observed for a certain reason in earlier centuries and are obsolete in today's context and it is better to shed the excess baggage. That is the only hope for what is good in our tradition in the 21st century. Or else the baby will get thrown along with the bathwater. But I guess that would be ok in the cause of Madi ! ( just kidding hehehe)

War on wastage

2008-05-25T21:59:00.008+07:00

The madmomma wrote a very thoughtful and useful post on avoiding food wastage and how we could each do our bit to fight the food crisis. Readers of her blog know how difficult it is to add something to her posts as she has this habit of considering issues from every angle conceivable; and yet, she asks me to add my two cents worth and let me try.

When we go out to eat as a gang, I see some friends order a dish , have a few spoonfuls and then leave it saying they are full. If you were not hungry to start with, why order a whole dish for yourself? It is always possible to share when one is in a gang. Order enough while making sure that nothing gets wasted.

I have heard it said by my friends who are conscious of their weight that "It is better to let food go to waste rather than to your waist." I'd rather not waste it and work it out.
There are several reasons why I feel strongly about wasting food:
While growing up, we were not allowed to waste food. There were a few years when we faced shortage of supply and food rationing by the government. This was probably during the Chinese war. I remember standing in queues in the ration shop to get sugar and wheat and kerosene. So there is a memory of a time when there was a possibility of having to go without certain items of food. You realise the value of a thing only when you face the possibility of being without it.
I come from a family where they believe that food is goddess Lakshmi and we were taught to be respectful of Annalakshmi. I respect it because I look around and see those who do not have enough of it and what a misery it can be. So I appreciate what I have and show my appreciation by not wasting it.

It is easier for me to avoid wastage in my house because there are no children with unpredictable appetites and cravings. I cook a full meal in the night and use the leftovers for lunch for me and the maid just cooking what is needed to supplement. This reduces time and energy spent in cooking too.
I shop several times during the week for vegetables and fruits as there are several shops within walking distance. I usually pick up stuff for not more than 2 days. This not only ensures freshness but also reduces the possibility of their going bad and getting wasted.
If there is leftover food from the previous meal, I try to work around them by making a vegetable that can go with it rather than plan a totally new menu for the next meal. And of course there are plenty of innovative and tasty combinations that you can try with left overs.
It is better to cook a little less of everything and supplement the meal with fruits,salads,lassi etc which is also healthier.
It is always a good idea to take a look at the shelves and the fridge for an inventory before going shopping.
"best before" is not the same as 'expiry date". In any case, it is a good idea to look at both before buying.If you are not sure that you can consume something before its expiry, do not buy it.
I have noticed that many of the supermarkets do not stock many of the items like pulses in smaller quantities. They come in 1kg and 2 kg packets claiming to offer a reduced price. But it is no point buying them unless you can use those quantities within a reasonable time. It might be better to pay the normal price and buy lesser quantities so that they get consumed rather than being wasted.

Wastage is not only a matter of affordability ; it is also an environmental issue. Cooked food that is thrown as garbage ends up emitting methane which is a green house gas. So if you cannot eat it, do not cook it.

And finally if you need any further incentive to avoid wastage please have this photograph implanted in your memory. This is a picture of a Somalian mother holding her baby who died of starvation. There are people, babies, dying without access to food. We have it ( at least for now), let us not waste it. It is a shame, it is a sin.

The extinction of good manners

2008-05-16T11:25:00.009+07:00

I frequent a departmental store which has one swinging door to enter and exit through – you know the type you push from either side to open? Around this store you have two five-star hospitals, three or four offices of MNCs, and one of the top management schools of the country. Why are these details important? So that you know the type of clients that visit this store.
You’d expect a minimum level of courtesy, manners and sensitivity from such people? Wrong.
Every time I go there people are walking in and out of the swinging doors never once holding it open ever so slightly for another person to enter or exit but letting that door swing back rapidly right on their face if they are not careful! If they have to exit, it does not matter who is on the other side – senior citizen, child, pregnant lady or a someone carrying a child – it is the same. Push the door and let it swing back without even looking back.

When I mentioned this to a young person he laughed and said “chivalry is dead and the feminists killed it.” Chivalry, who said anything about Chivalry? True there are fewer damsels in distress today needing knights in shining armours to protect them. They are quite capable of taking care of themselves, thank you. But what has that got to do with simple courtesies and good manners from either sex - why throw the baby out with the bath water? Holding doors open may have been part of chivalrous behaviour but it is as much simple manners and good behaviour. I expect that in women as well as men. Are those dead too? That would indeed be a sad day for humanity. If anything they are needed much more today than ever in human history.

One smartie even told me that it is a cultural thing . We don't do such things in this country. Men always walked in first and women came behind. Yes they did but it was in those days when danger lurked everywhere and men went first so their women and children were not exposed to it. How do you argue with someone who doesn't even know this? There may be hundred arguments in favour of bad behaviour but good behaviour needs no justification - it is just the right thing to do, period.

To be ‘considerate and caring’ – is it only for the girl scouts? Not for the rest of us? At school one of the first things we were taught was to let others pass and not rush. Older girls always ensured that the teachers and children got out before them and the younger ones picked up the habit soon. It seems to me that nobody teaches them these things today. In fact I have seen some parents telling their children to rush and push out of international flights in order to get to the immigration counters first – they show them how to do it by their own example. Getting up even before the flight has come to a complete halt, opening overhead storages, blocking walkways – name it. And it is n’t just the labourers coming back home who block the area around the luggage carousel making it impossible for others even to look if their boxes are there – many of them work in MNCs and have impressive degrees. After a long haul flight everyone is eager to go home but elbowing, pushing and blocking are not the best of solutions to expedite matters. Granted that the facilities and services at the airports are pathetic but we make it worse for ourselves with our behaviour. Put a seemingly gentle and soft spoken Indian in a situation like this and see his worst come out – ‘it is “me” against the rest and I am getting it whatever it takes’ seems to be the attitude.

This generation is highly competitive and they want to be ahead of every one everywhere. Try waiting at any pedestrian crossing without an automated signal or a policeman and see how many vehicles slow down to let you pass by – even if it is a school-going child or a senior citizen trying to cross the road - not just the buses and autos driven by the choicest boors but the plush ones driven by uniformed drivers and by smartly dressed yuppies of both gender. We are all in a hurry and there is no time for meaningless delays - meaningless as they are not going to help us get ahead in our career or finances. It is no excuse that others are like that and you'd be a fool or (the even more descriptive) "loser" to try to be different. I don't know. I'd rather be rated a 'loser' than lose my manners and be a winner.

While I can at least understand ( not accept) this behaviour in the above situation, I cannot understand it at a super market or a multiplex cinema hall. Here there is no hurry to get out but simple apathy and lack of manners. Funnily the doors of the auditoriums in this cinema hall in Bangalore has no stoppers. So invariably the door keeps swinging back and people push it and get out and let it swing back in your face. I always hold it for the next one to pass but the next one just walks through and then I am left holding it forever or until someone observant comes along . Young college girls and boys, yuppy men, older gentlemen, middle aged ladies – no distinction. No one thinks of the next person in line. It is I, me and myself only.

Today’s life is on the fast lane and we all seem to be hurrying from one thing to the next all the time. But it is sad if consideration, courtesy and good manners are the casualties in this race. Life may be short but not so short that there is no time for simple courteous behaviour towards one another. Meantime I will still stand holding doors while people nonchalantly walk past. After all , as the wise one said:
The test of good manners is to be patient with bad ones.

Meme: Table Talk

2008-05-13T11:56:00.009+07:00

I am continuing this meme at the behest of Shefaly and really loved doing this one. Thank you Shefaly.

What’s your favourite table?
Actually it is not a table but the courtyard at my grandma’s place where about 15 of us sat down to eat together , laughing, bantering and sharing. It was not about the food at all which was mostly simple home - cooked stuff; but it was about the feeling of togetherness, belonging, love and security.
Otherwise it would have to be the one at the Taj resort Laguna Maldives – for the food, the wine, the service, the ambience. It was in part due to the Bangaldeshi waiter who would decorate my table with flowers that he gathered from around the island – made me feel like a queen.

What would you have for your last supper?
I eat every meal with such avidity and relish that you may suspect that it is my last supper. Hehe.
mmm...I think it would not be so much about ‘What” I’d have as it would be about “who” I’d like to have the last super with. I’d like the last meal to be with all my loved ones and all those I need to make peace with. (Of course I’d pay with my credit card so numbers should not matter!)
There’d certainly be wine, lots of it. There would be cheese. All types of salads and the most sinful desserts. I don’t care much for the Entrées or the piece de resistance – can be pasta or bisi bele baat (anyway I am not eating it!)
And there would certainly be a last cup of TEA!

What’s your poison?
Tea of course.

Name your three desert island ingredients.
Pepper to season the fresh berries I might find to eat. ( as well as to spray on attackers)
Tea ( to kick start my brain so I can think up ways to get out of the place)
Honey – to add to my tea ( oh we like to do it in style even on a desert island), to eat and to use as sunblock and medicine against insect bites.

What would you put in Room 101?
Sambar, I guess! ( doesn’t need elaboration if you have checked out my previous post)
And perhaps elephant yam ( such a pain to cut)

Which book gets you cooking?
Tarla Dalal’s recipe books especially the photos.

What’s your dream dinner party line-up?
Great conversationalists, not fussy about food and people with whom I can relax and enjoy.
If it was a group of bloggers, I’d like to invite The RationalFool , The Doc , Shefaly, Maami and Paul. People who’d satisfy all my criteria and how I’d love the brilliant arguments and discussions that would be guaranteed. Of course with the doc and maami around there would be enough of laughter too. And Paul,it would be on the porch of a house by the riverside. :)Please get your favourite drink along or name it.

What was your childhood teatime treat?
Might have been some kind of bourbon biscuit but my favorite was bun with butter and jam.

What was your most memorable meal?
A dinner party at Schloss Leopoldskron in 1990 during the Salzburg Seminar. Husband was a participant in the seminar and family was invited to this dinner. This was the house of the Von Trapp family in the film "sound of music'. The place defined the meaning of “awesome” to me, food was good and company was excellent, from all over the world.
Another was with a very dear friend at an Indian restaurant in Henley-on- Thames. It was one of my happiest meals.

What was your biggest food disaster?
Every time I try baking a cake, it is a huger flop show than the previous time.

What’s the worst meal you’ve ever had?
It must have been some of those early meals cooked by me when I was still learning. Although none so bad that I can remember the details.

Who’s your food hero/food villain?
There used to be an American television show called ‘Yan can cook’ – used to love the show and the way the host talked, chopped, stir fried and cooked. He made it all seem such fun.
Food villain – May be Mother in law? for having set such tough standards? ;)

Nigella or Delia?
Neither. Haven’t watched/ read either.

Vegetarians: genius or madness?
Neither. Purely chance and circumstance. And whether one feels the need to change it. May be it requires a bit of madness to do that.

Fast food or fresh food?
Fast food when hungry and desperate . Otherwise fresh food, any day.

Who would you most like to cook for?
Certainly not husband or siblings ( for reasons see the previous post). Perhaps for Manuel , the portuguese friend I referred to in this post who gave me an entirely new perspective on how to approach food – be it while cooking or while consuming it.

What would you cook to impress a date?
I better not cook if I want to impress anyone. :)

Make a wish.
I wish to have a meal prepared by Anatole in company of Bertie Wooster and Uncle Fred . Of course while Jeeves is still in Bertie’s service. There would be lot of trouble with Bertie, me and Uncle Fred. Without Jeeves, who is to get us out of all the mess?

I’d like to pass on this delicious meme to anyone who would take it up but specifically to
Doc – who I know is a foodie and will give a delicious twist to all the responses.
Jane Turley – who is not particularly fond of the kitchen, if I may put it mildly. So she is bound to come up with some preposterously humorous responses.
Nandita – who has such a mouthwatering food blog and hence an appropriate target.
Souvik - who loves to experiment with food.

Thanks souvik for taking up the tag so promptly and for a wonderful post.

Doc dissects it here.

Nandita's post here.

It's mother's day at every meal

2008-05-10T20:36:00.010+07:00

When I was growing up, meals at home entirely consisted of Tambrahm home food. For lunch (eaten around 9 a.mon working days and around 10 a.m on holidays) we had rice, sambar, vegetable and buttermilk; Dosas, idlis, upmas and adais were for evening tiffin and dinner menu was sambar or rasam with rice and curd rice. Variation was only in the vegetable and the type of Sambar. The menu varied on festival days with special dishes to mark the respective occasions. Chapatis were still not accepted as a substitute for rice and bread was only eaten if you were ill. This was the 1960s and 70s. Chaat counters were available in a few restaurants which also served north Indian food that tasted suspiciously like South Indian sambar and kootu disguised under North Indian Spices.

After marriage I moved to Calcutta and as a new bride, I was invited to meals by many of husband's friends and colleagues where I was introduced to dishes with fancy names like Alu mattar, Channa masala, Bhaingan Bhurtha,Palak paneer etc and the food at the Chinese reataurants of Calcutta. My sambar-ravaged taste buds woke up to hitherto unknown pleasures while tasting spices other than chilli and pepper. I loved them and craved them and began to eagerly wait for dinner invitations! Once they started dwindling, I armed myself with a few Tarla Dalal recipe books and quickly learnt to make a few of my favourites and decided to surprise the husband and the father-in-law with a lunch menu comprising entirely of these divinely delicious dishes.
Come lunch time and I made a production of it. I waited till they were seated at the table to unveil the dishes expecting a few audible signs of excitement and delight. All I got was a puzzled expression as the duo inspected the spread. And then the husband blurted out: "Looks very nice. but where is the food?"
"What, What do these look like -clay models of food?"
"No, I mean our food, like sambar, rice and all that."
I could have killed them with just a bit of poison in the Sambar next time but I resisted and simply said:
"Sambar does not go with this menu and yes, there is rice in the pulao and some plain rice."
There was ominous silence and the normally hearty eaters pecked politely at the food and fell with passion on the rice and curd.
The barbarians, philistines, Food fascists, Culinary Chauvinists - I could have gone on a la Captain Haddock but I was a new bride remember and rather young, and it was two against one. So I endured it all with a smile.
Anyway I lived on left over food for the next two days while cooking (no prizes for guessing) Sambar , Rasam and vegetables for the rest of the family.

I decided that the family I married into are culinary cowards who refuse to eat anything that their mothers did not recognise as food. But over a period of time, I have come to realise that almost everyone of my relatives brought up in Tamilnadu prefers the sambar, rasam, vegetable menu day after day after day without ever tiring of it. They actually think that it is the best kind of food in its taste, variety and nutrition! Last year I went on a holiday to the U.S to a cousin's place hoping to finally get away from the tyranny of sambar and rasam as this cousin has lived in the U.S. for over 20 years. I was secretly hoping to try out American and Mexican and whatever-else kind of food but imagine my dismay when my cousin assured us that we would get "our food" every single day. Her kitchen looked like a replica of her mother's in Bengaluru, well stocked with all the ingredients and when we went out to eat, we went to places serving Dosas and Puris! When my son comes back from his trips abroad, relatives of my generation are usually concerned about what he did for "food". I am tempted to tell them about the existence of "food" other than sambar, rasam, kootu, curry but then I do not want to offend their sensibilities so I tell them about the availability of our "food" almost everywhere in the world these days.

I read other blogs and people talk about experimenting with cuisine from all over the world and wonder how they got so adventurous. In my family people go to five star hotels and order Dosa from the menu (and that is what we have at home for breakfast about 3 days in a week.) They can claim to have eaten Dosa in Dubai, London, New York and San Francisco! Ask them about the local cuisine- they never tried it but mostly lived on salads and yoghurt and by the time they come back they exhibit serious symptoms of sambar withdrawal!

I sometimes think that to my family, food is not just a thing to tickle our tastebuds, satisfy our hunger and provide nutrition. It is much more than that - it is a relationship that links them to their roots and more specifically to their mothers. It reminds them of their mothers and childhood and gives them a sense of comfort and belonging.That is why it is important for them to be able to see it, feel it and taste it in a certain form so they can finally feel that they have come home. When I was newly married I noticed that even though the dishes were similar between ours and my in-laws', there were minor variations to the recipe and I was urged to follow them strictly. Being a bit of a rebel I once made Morkozhambu the way my mother makes it and was politely but firmly told that it tasted good but they preferred it the way my mother in law and her mother in law made it.
In the west they have one day to celebrate their mothers but for generations, men of our family have celebrated and honoured their mothers at every mealtime by recognising as "food" only what their mothers fed them. Everything else is just decoration on the table.

Happy mother's day!

R A M bles

2008-04-30T20:54:00.008+07:00

There is a new TV serial of the Ramayan. While channel surfing I arrived to watch it during a moment of intense drama and stopped. It was the moment when Bharath had come with about half the population of Ayodhya to request Ram to return and take charge of the kingdom. Ram looked extremely intrigued and fascinated by everything - you know the kind of expression that firangs have when you bring them to an Indian wedding? Somewhat lost but aware that the proceedings have enormous significance to others and not knowing how to react? I seriously think he is hearing the story of the Ramayan for the first time or he still cannot believe that he got the hero's role. Lakshman - now this guy reminded me of this cricketer, the brat Sreesanth, alternating between anger and tears! Bharath has a great hairstyle and Shatrugan is really good looking.

At this point, my son walked in and said "As if Ram looks like that!"
I turned to him and asked if he had seen Ram and he replied "No, I grew up watching Arun Govil as Rama. And this actor is so different."
I remembered then that I grew up thinking that Krishna looked like N.T.Rama Rao. This actor (who later became the CM of Andhra Pradesh), played the role of Krishna in every mythological film in Tamil. Apparently he played various other Gods too in Telugu films with the result that everyone began to think of him as a living God. In the mornings, we used to find a lot of buses full of shaved heads around T.Nagar club - people who came for a Darshan of NTR garu immediately after visiting Tirupathi. Such was their belief.

So it required a major adjustment for me when handsome and young Nitish Bharadwaj played Krishna in BR Chopra's TV Serial of the Mahabharatha. Initially it seemed like blasphemy and imposture but he looked so much better that I decided that Krishna, my favorite mythological character, is more likely to have looked like him than NTR.

We are so used to imagining our Hindu Gods in ways that artists envisioned them and gave life to them in their art that if Ganesha were to come down with a normal face, we might ask for an identity - preferably a ration card. It might be rather disappointing if any of the Goddesses looked less beautiful than Aishwarya Rai right? And the bluish black Krishna and Greenish blue Ram might get eliminated in the first round of audition for their roles and might lose out to someone who looks like N.T.Rama Rao.

Isn't this in a strange way a reflection of the nature of Faith itself? We make up our own mental version of a God and we begin to believe in it and depend on it so much that we are unwilling to let anyone give a different version, even if it is better and more true and hence more beautiful. At some point our belief becomes more important than Truth itself. I guess that is when it stops being Faith and becomes Fanaticism.

Meantime on the screen Bharath is walking away with Rama's sandals on his head and Rama has the same bewildered expression - It appears as though he is wondering where he is going to get another pair of sandals in the forest and whether he can manage barefoot for 14 years.

Monochrons and Polychrons

2008-04-18T17:50:00.011+07:00

Rendezvous 11 a.m at the bookshop. Then off to the meeting followed by lunch and finish off at 3.
This was the arrangement with the friend and I had planned for the day in careful detail working backward. I had cancelled all other activities normally scheduled between 10 and 4 and left home at 10 so as to be at the bookshop by 10:45. At 11:10 I get a message from the friend: "on my way. Should be there in 15 minutes." And then she arrives at 11:45 telling me that she thought she'd have a haircut before coming and got delayed at the parlour. We are already 15 minutes late for the meeting and we still had a 30 minute drive to the venue of the meeting. So more sms es and I am upset because I don't like to be late anywhere but friend assures me "relax, it is just 30 mins delay ya, nobody minds it. Happens all the time." And by the time we arrive for lunch after the meeting it is already 2:30 and at 3:30 we are still talking about ordering dessert. Meantime I find friend sms ing and ask her if she has other programs for the day. "yes" she smiles. She is attending an exhibition at 4 and catching a movie in the evening. I tell her "we might still be here at 4." She says, "yeah, that is why I am messaging the guy to say I will be there a bit late!"

Here I am cancelling everything for the day for making it on time for one meeting and lunch. I hurry through my morning, avoiding everything that could possibly delay me (including washing my hair or applying eyeliner or checking my emails) and arrive 15 minutes early for the appointment only to be sms ed and made to wait an hour. The friend is actually getting more out of the day by packing in an unscheduled haircut in the extra 45 minutes she gained by delaying the appointment. On an average day, I find that she manages to get a lot more done than I do. Where I schedule 4 things for a day allowing enough time between the activities so as to make sure I make it on time, she schedules 6 or 7 things so closely and still manages most of it with delays everywhere. But isn't she gaining this extra time by taking away from others' time? For example, Why did I have to waste 1 hour of my day because she was having a haircut?

I can see that she gets more out of the day with this overscheduling of hers- somehow juggling everything with a few minutes' delay everywhere. But I wonder why it is necessary? Isn't rest an integral part of the day's schedule too if you are to enjoy all the activities? I think this desire to want to do all of them is also the result of the inability or unwillingness to prioritise and decide what is essential and what is not. Why not have it all rather than having to give up something?
I know someone who starts her day at 5 a.m on weekends and hops from one activity to another all through her weekend and then goes every few months to a meditation camp in order to de-stress. I asked her why she could not use one day of the weekend to rest and sort herself out in order to meet the stress of the week ahead. She looked at me like it is an alien concept in an unbelieving way: "you are asking me to stay at home and do nothing and mope around? It is so pathetic ya."
I don't know. What seems pathetic to me is this need to constantly run from one thing to another in order to escape being alone with oneself. Or may be I am just too contented with my quiet life to see what I am missing out on. Or may be I AM pathetic!

All I know is that my time is as important to me as yours is to you, even if I may do nothing with it. Overschedule yourself by all means but if your 24 hours isn't enough for you don't borrow mine - my time is too precious to be spent dealing with your delays. I can think of other important things to do in that one hour - a nap for example!

Ok rant over . Now are you wondering about the title of this post? Well,it makes me feel so much better to know that I may not be a freak but a monochron. Hey I said Mono chron NOT a moron, ok?! Now who is a monochron?
" Monochrons prefer to do one thing at a time, working on a task until it is finished, then, and only then, moving on to the next task. To a monochron, switching back and forth from one activity to another is not only wasteful and distracting, it is uncomfortable.
Polychrons are different. They love to work on more than one thing at a time. To a polychron, switching from one activity to another is both stimulating and productive and, hence, the most desirable way to work."

read more here.

menopausal mumblings

2008-04-04T12:20:00.015+07:00

My mom's uncle was a Village school headmaster and in his retirement he was a great hit with pre-adolescents. The very same kids who sought him as children suddenly began to avoid him once they reached adolescence. Reason? He would be seated with his entourage of adoring kids showing them card tricks and magic. Suddenly he would catch an older boy passing by and ask him "which standard are you in? eighth? Ok,now translate this sentence into English: "vandikaran Mattai trit trit trit enru oatinaan*"
The poor village boy would not know how to translate the act of goading the bull dragging the cart, nor would he know how to translate the trit trit noise into English! And he would go red/ purple in the face about the humiliation in front of his younger cousins and siblings squealing with laughter at thatha's imitation of the Bullock cart driver. Trit trit trit, they'd go.
But Sami thatha would hold him close and tell him "see, you should not get discouraged by such questions. If someone asks you what is the English word for kathirikai** you should say "constantinople" without hesitation. - 'kathrikaiku Englishle ennanu keta constantinople nu sollidanum. bayapada koodadu'
And he would further add, 'presence of mind, confidence and alertness are important. If you go for Indian Civil Service interview they will suddenly ask about the number of steps in the staircase you climbed to get to the interview hall...'
I have no idea if they really asked these kind of questions in an IAS interview those days but that is what Sami Thatha said and I would believe anything he said.
His repertoire of tricks, trivia and jokes was awesome. And he used to know and sing so many songs, such as those sung during marriage, the bangle ceremony for a first time mother-to-be called valaikapu and death. These songs were not written down but usually passed down the generations orally. I used to adore him but his own children and other grown ups in the house did not care much for him with the result he took all that he knew to the grave without anybody caring to inherit that knowledge he possessed.

As a child it was a mystery to me that adults did not think Thatha was a super hero and they treated him as a joke. Once I became an adult I became like them too finding these old people's sense of humour rather clichéd and tiresome. Have you noticed that old people across households crack the same kind of jokes:

Family discussing wording of their son's wedding invitation card. Boy's sister says 'Let us make it clear that they should avoid presents'
Boy's grandfather: Make sure that the printer doesn't print it as "avoid presence" Then there will be no one at the wedding.
Brother and sister exchange glances grinding their teeth in exasperation.

Boy preparing for their exams. Retired neighbour enquires: "studying hard? or hardly studying?" with a wicked smile.
Although your instantaneous response is to wring his neck, the appropriate response is to grin and bear the torture and remember that you will hear it again before the next exam.

Sometimes people who seem rather stiff in their 30s and 40s suddenly acquire this kind of sense of humour when they reach their sixties. Looking around and seeing this kind of transformation in some acquaintances, I imagine if I might be in their shoes ten years from now although I see this happening more among men than women. I wonder if it is a sign of male menopause. So I listen patiently when a retired uncle tells me in the middle of a match telecast about Rangachari's career best of 5 for 107 against West Indies at Delhi.

It is tough trying to keep pace with the changes in a fast paced world and feeling comfortable in it. It is tougher if you have lived in small towns all your life and suddenly thrust into a big city and its ways in retirement. Sometimes I see these old couples floundering among the aisles in supermarkets trying to figure out their way. The other day I was at MORE super market (which used to be Fabmall before the management/ ownership changed.
Uncle about 65 walks in, attired in khadi dhoti , short khadi kuta and a cloth bag and asks the girl at the cash register where Fabmall is.
The girl replies "no Fabmall, it is More now.
Uncle: Yes, I know this shop is called MORE but where is the Fabmall that used to be here.
Girl:It is closed.
Uncle: But it must have gone someplace. Where is it?
Girl: Fabmall closed.
Uncle: But,...(mutters to himself in Tamil: I don't understand what you are saying and I don't know Kannada 'Neenga solradu enaku puriyalai enakku kannadamum teriyadu'
So I step in to explain in Tamil that Aditya Birla group has bought over Fabmalls and changed the name to More. Uncle's face brightens with a smile of understanding as he wonders: "oho, these guys are so rich that they bought over the shop and the name too!"
And he goes on to wonder more:
"And your Tamil, you speak it so fluently and with the right pronounciation!!"
I take leave of him with a smile. he stands there wondering that a huge chain of shops was swallowed ovenight by another chain and that he would find someone speaking Tamil in a Tanjore accent in this big city.
Wonder what other fascinating discoveries he made standing there after I left.

I see me there, in his shoes, a decade from now - all you nice young people, be kind to me and my queries and my jokes. It doesn't take too much to be kind to an old person.

_______________________________________________________________________________
* - Vandikaran - the guy to drives a bullock cart; mAdu - bullock; to oatify - is to drive/ to goad something to move forward; trit trit trit - beyond translation.

**- Kathrikai - Brinjal

***- Thatha - grandfather