Hope and Happiness

The point in time wherein you feel the least happy, is always the point wherein you have the least hope. Can this hold true at all points?

The Election

I found it so difficult to tear myself from the TV at 10:30 am this morning. Had been randomly watching the US election coverage since 6:00 am, while getting throught the ususal weekday routines. Gradually realised i was late for a 9:30am call, which I conveniently logged on from home itself.

It was 10:00 and absolutely the outer limit to step out from home in order to maintain a professional image. But no, at that very momment, I had to get hooked on to McCains speech, and was completely rivetted by a speech by a pastor(I am not yet sure who this person was) to the wonderful crowd at Grant Park, Chicago. Delivered with such conviction, dedication and hope. There was such an infectious spirit of optimism in the whole scene. Oprah Winfrey included. Now I desperately wanted to stay on and watch Obanma

With a heavy heart, consoling that I could catch his speech on the web as soon as I get to offcie, I left home. I have watched this fight quite closely with a lot of interest. Though I havent yet read his Audacity of Hope. But then I usually have a tough time gettting through biographies.

Last evening I read a review of Toni Morrisons latest book woven around the haunting tapestry of slavery in US. The review itself was so gripping that I cant wait to take a few days off and read the book. And then there was a recent revisit of Jefferey Archers short story 'A Change of Heart', written against the backdrop of Aparthied in South Africa. This election's results should signify something personal to so many races across the world, that have struggled and still struggling...for basic human rights.

I guess its not madness to hope that politics in my country too would change...probably in ten years time?

11111

Thats my car's odometer reading this morning. Translated very enthusiastically by S as Eleven Thousand, Eleven Hundred and Eleven.

Three cheers for the event! It has taken 22 months for it to get here. Over this time it has experienced three flat tyres, a drained battery, a few gashes mostly unleashed by bangalore autos (can I ever be at fault?), a huge crater in the front caused by a speeding bicyclist who rammed into the car. Thank God he managed to hold himself steady after that and continued to speed merrily.

Now, thats almost 500 km a month. If one were to assume that Bangalore Traffic proceeds at 20 km an hour, I have spent close to 555 hours in it, close to 50 minutes every single day over the past two years. Not bad, considering it doubles up as my dressing room, puja room, pantry and thought lab.

In contsant search...

for the perfect lunch box.

Have been at it for the past thirty months. And still havent achieved any satisfaction. At the end of each working day, between mom and two kids we fill the sink with 50 pieces of these items to be cleaned. This is excluding the lunch bag itself and the water bottles (which are a constant battle issue).

I had started with plastic ones. Simple two-tier stuff, with clasps at the side, in bright colours. Winnie-the-Pooh and Bob-the-Builder smiling sweetly from the lid. The colour pleased the kids and the simplicity thrilled me. My then two-year old could open and shut without much mess. Cool. But, the fancy wore out, the clasps didnt hold for more than a month and one tier kept falling off, even as I was about to place it in the lunch bag.

Then came the rainy wintry days of Bangalore. Ought to give them warm food. So, I bought those insulated ones, with microwaveable containers inside. Super duper find, I commended myself. Once again the colours pleased the kids and the ease of use gave me warm comfort. The 2.3 year old could still unlock the containers because it had grooves on the lid and neat arrow marks to guide her on the right way to open.

The joy was shortlived. Those grooves began to accumulate the following in multiple strata: mud stains,ghee from rasam mammum,VIM and atoms of steel scrubber. The yuckiness freaked me out at the end of week one.

Ah! When i am on this slippery a slope how can Tupperware not catch my attention. Found an ardent salesperson who said stuff like spill-proof ya, very good quality plastic ya, lifetime replacement guarantee ya. Okay, done. Three combinations purchased. It was okay for a while, but then the smell of the last days food always seems to linger in all plastics. Especially when stuff has ghee and/or turmeric in them. And my maid who is totally ignorant on how to wipe utensils dry, just adds to my head ache.

With a vengeance, this week I have returned to good old STAINLESS STEEL. They may look less natty but they remain stubbornly smell free, with minimal intervention. Have got those Milton ones inside a soft insulation. The only thing of concern now is the fact that they have plastic lids on the steel containers. In the meantime, I am sending my maid to a refresher course on wiping vessels.

Wilson Garden

A nice name. Conjures up images of an idyllic place blooming with Gulmohurs and Jacarandas, with the occassional evening shower, the sun peeping through the clouds to cheer the rain, nattily dressed grandpas and grandmas sitting on the wooden park benches...

I have spotted the name on numerous signboards in seemingly disconnected directions and could never figure out where exactly it lay. And this weekend I saw an ad that said Brand Factory has opened its second oultet in Wilson Garden. Brand Factory is of no consequence to me, but the ad listed the phone number of the store. My first 'contact' in Wilson Garden! I called up the store and took down the directions in great detail.

I set out on the quest for Wilson Garden with S briefing V about what happens in a Factory! Car Parts, Robots, Assembly, Painting machines, shiny stuff...

It turned out that Wilson Garden was indeed nicely tree lined, with broad roads and a flyover but fully crammed with buses, trucks and autos. And numerous Ganesha installations. And a few reputed hospitals, with the bus stops bursting with people.

And Brand Factory seemed a welcome relief from it. I hate big stores in general, because it magnifies the worlds problem of excessive production AND consumption. But this one was okay because the number of consumers seemed rather low.

WE didnt buy anything except delicious cheese grill sandwiches and pomegranate juice. Which in part made S forget his diappointment on what Brand Factory turned out to be. And made me hope that the trees of Wilson garden are still around for a long long time. Anyways, dusk is not the best time to make a judgement about a place, for your views will always be clouded. So, I shall still think of Wilson Garden as a nice place.

Making sense of Digtal Intimacy

Read an article in the New York Times this morning.

Among other things, it helped me understand why Twitter makes sense to all the people who use it. Analyses if the internet has actually raised the Dunbar number of 150. Maintains that even if one has 200 facebook friends, the circle with whom you maintain close connections amongst them will always be a much smaller number.

I used to be especially puzzled because I never got hooked on to any of the ever changing flavours of the internet. Way back in 1998 or so, when MSN messenger was introduced, I was super excited, but gradually that enthu wilted. Even the subsequent voice chat and webcam versions made me more lazier. Not to mention Skype. The telephone-will-do attitude thus limited my knowledge to that of a close circle of family and friends. Not much room for maintaining 'acquaintances'.

Email I loved and still remains the most utilised means of communication.

I did go about creating accounts on twitter and facebook and reunion and classmates ...under various pseudonyms, but never got enthused. It is not that I am trying to guard my privacy at all costs...its just that I find it burdensome to 'maintain' all those outlets. Its after all a substantial amount of time, which doesnt result in anything meanignful for me.

All my nieces think I am a granny in this aspect. But I shall soon start a group on Facebook called Non Facebook users...if it already doesnt exist

To Nee or Not

Almost ten years into married life I thought I had long ago sorted out issues pertaining to Nee name (henceforth identified as NN) and Married name (lets call it MN). Not that many players were involved in the decision. The only people who had shown any interest in it or offered opinions on it were 1. Myself and 2. My FIL. The owner of my married surname was merely a bemused spectator as I sought answers to these plaguing issues.

Passport: If I adopted my MN, they indicated that I would have to apply for a fresh passport, which, ten years ago, used to be a longish wait. On the other hand, Madam, if you 'include' your spouse's name into your existing passport, it will be a one-day service. Thanks, I'll stick to NN.

PAN card: The dreadful, but handy thing to have around to flout your tax status. In my absence from the country my FIL had gone ahead and applied in the MN. And he got it too. Please can I change it now to NN? No dear, that would involve issuing a public notice (afffidavit?) that you are changing your name, legal processes involved...Then we would have to intimate the three insurance policies...Now, who dare go about altering such a thing as a PAN? So, there I was known as MN.

Employment: Since my passport is NN, but PAN is MN, i decided to maintain my duplicity...my email ID is my NN but my name in the records is MN ! I took great advantage of the IT-Business alignment gap in my company, which i incidentally tout as my core competence. Ha!

Forms: The surname of the NN is 14 letters long and that of MN is 15 letters long. So, i couldnt figure which had a clear advantage when it came to filling out sundry forms fast... So, in such instances i inkied and ponkied between the names.

Gmail: This week, I was finally frustrated with my hotmail and yahoo accounts due to the spam and so decided to get a gmail account (apart from the nonsensical sounding blogger account). As luck would have it, the NN id was taken, so I had to again adopt the MN@gmail.com id!

The Patchwork Boy

Well, he was at it once again. Having freak accidents. He was playing on the wooden rocking animals (meant for the three year olds) at school and he flew. And hit the concrete floor with a thud. He was bleeding, but he couldnt notice. Mom, I dont have eyes on my back, do I? The security guard spots the blood, does some rudimentary cleaning. Uncle also applied some yellow powder on it.

Then it was lunch time. Lunch was yummy. It hurt a little bit, but I was okay. Then as the teacher plodded through some social science, the kids behind him told the teacher of the renewed blood flow. The teacher knew it was more than what the yellow powder could handle.

Off they rush to the hospital in the school bus. It was the nursery dismissal time. It was fun to be on the bus with all the kutti paapas. The doc ordered two stitches on the head. He asked me to lie down and silly goosily, I lay on my back and it REALLY hurt. Then an injection and ibugesic.

And by the time the school called and I reached, he was standing at the top of the steps, beaming a twenty toother at me.

Yes, I do adore his spirit to brave it all. But it is just five months since he fractured his right hand middle finger, when he pushed a desk on it. The nail had barely started to grow back. I am certain no forensic expert can reconstruct that accident. And countless more before that.

Each time something like this happens, I just say to myself, thank god its this and not anything much worse.

Looking Out, Looking In

What typically happens in traffic. You are stuck behind a vehicle. For want for anything better to do, if you mind is on the moment, then you take in the vehicle. Maybe an ancient esteem. Perhaps a badly bashed up innova. Cool Audi. Comparable Alto. Nice color for the Baleno, does the owner bother that its no longer in production? HeeHo..Palio! How low-rise can the pillion riders jeans be. Oh, Jeans everywhere. Its actually friday. Oh, the infant on the motorbike. On its way to some form of caregiver. What a struggle it must be for the parents with the commute and work and what not. EMI's....on everything. Wheres the nest I contemplate. Perhaps in Begur? Vijaya Layout? Cant be sure.

I can take in vehicles such as these. But there a few which I cannot look straight at. The open tempos in which a few folks are standing and they are looking back, bcos they cant look front. They could be those catering vehicles with the tall dabbas. The garbage trucks, in which few folks are seated right on top of the garbage. Forced to be oblivious to the stench and the filth. And some of those carry two dozen consturction workers...women, children and a few men. These folks look right at me - the driver, the woman, the materially richer one perhaps, the one that doesnt have to care much....the lucky one.

Things to worry..

Did I put the right lunch box into the right lunch bag?
They will relish the change

Did I put spoons in ALL the lunch bags?
Does it matter if they lick their fingers?

Did I put a spoon of curd into the milk rice to ensure it turns to curd rice?
They can survive on the rotis for a day...really

Did I pin up the V's Badge. Is her Route Number visible? Does 7B look like 78?
There is no route 78

Did somebody (me or the husband) remember to deliver V's lunchbox to the creche?
She will eat Rahuls lunch or Richas brunch...why bother

Did I turn off the geyser...and the stove
One is auto-off...so quite safe...the other will turn off when the LPG runs out.

I forgot my cell phone
The schools have you husbands number ....and your office LAN

Is the FILs birthday today or tomorrow. Whom can i ask?
Obviously ask the FIL. Why pretend and goof up?

I still havent got around to calling (phone) N people and keep in touch
They will call you. Sometime. Or you can do it later

The police men are screwing up traffic in Bangalore (by their absence of course)
Do your bit, relax, drive safe.

I worried about all this and then forgot to look at my cars fuel indicator which read 'E'....and it stopped. And so the story goes on...

An early morning lesson ...in biology

As S and I were brushing, we found a small intruder invading our peace. A teeny weeny lizard peeped out from the shelf. I was way too scared, but managed to get the husband to take some concrete action. He fetched the morning's TOI and arrested the little being against the wall before hitching it on to page one. And then it was delivered on a flight out of the balcony. Peace at last.

But S noticed that a part of the little L's tail was still left behind on our basin....and it was moving...appa, it does not have eyes how will it know where to go? Where is the tails brain? If the lizard can grow backs its tail, can the tail also grow back the lizard?

Aaargh....! I must say that his interest in multiplication (maths and otherwise) is increasing at a very alarming rate.

I want more traffic jams

Really, I need more of them. On selective routes. Like the one from School to Office. I currently run myself into two thick jams. At Mandovi Motors I pull out my moisturiser and spend the full five minutes fighting the flaky skin. Nearing Fourm on Hosur Road, I comb my hair. Yes I do! Of course if theres no jam, then i dont comb it. Ha. Who cares. What big difference would it make anyways?

Now that I leave home early, I pack breakfast. I need a stop to eat it. Must work my way into a jam at BTM layout probably.

Probably if I hire a driver, and have traffic jams on the way to school, i can even manage to feed V in the car.

60 days later

The last post was April 22nd.

Time to pause and recollect.

- Had three wonderful family events - one 'upanayanam' and two weddings. S wants to have his upanayanam done ASAP. When I looked woefully at my MIL, she assured me it was better this way: imagine if V were to demand her wedding right away.

- Chennai Visits: Managed to watch Indiana Jones in between a Muhurtham and Reception. Hijacked a crowd of 20 relatives to the theatre. The ones left behind disapproved of course. I want to go to South America.

- Grandmother: The 90 year old has broken her leg yet another time. This time she is not able to get back on her legs. Surgery is ruled out bcos of her age. Now completely bed-ridden. Also very delerious. I felt very disturbed.

- Coimbatore: Three day visit. Sacked out at the brothers house. Visited Guruvayoor. Very tiring journey, considering that the highway to that place is some 50 ft wide, winding though fields and little hamlets, and vehicles packed bumper-to-bumper zip at 70 kmph.

- Trains: Its impossible to share a berth with the V anymore. Gives me more reasons to lose weight.

- Friends: The grand highlight. Wonderful to meet choxbox, kbpm and the other beautiful thing from california. and their little ones. Okay, their husbands too.

- Schools and Creche: This one requires a tome.

Stolen Moments

Another routine weekday was being spent, when the husband suddenly called and said that he will be taking the kids to some function around 6pm. The said affair being the religious kind, I was compelled to stay away due to my monthly time-off.

That gave me some peaceful moments to connect with the real world. Went to the 9th Block on the grand old kinetic, parked it at GuruDutt Enterprises, our local library and decided to do the rest of the expedition by walk.

When I crossed one of those big main roads (those that are christened Double Road, if they were constructed before 2000, and Ring Road if made more recently), I realised that I was doing so on foot for the very first time. How sadly motorized my daily life has become! Anyways, it was nice to notice each and every one of those medley of shops - in the process accomplished chores like getting a motorized spirograph repaired, chatting with the tailor who was surprised that I was back from vacation so early (who also wondered what I had done to the monsters), picking up anklets for the V, eating Bharkawadi and jalebi at the Delhi Bhavan and winding it all up by renting out Milan Kundera's Ignorance from Mr.Gurudutt.

Dinner was a an eclectic mix of leftovers from morning eaten in the company of MTV's Saturday Shuffle (does it matter to them that it is now tuesday?). Damn Arbit VJ. Why do they do these shows seated on a bed, wearing some nightclothes? After some expected mish mash of Bhool Bhulaiya and the likes, I was stunned to see an item called 'Team Anthem of Knight Raiders'. I have successfully shut off all info regarding the IPL, except catching a picture of the GenX Gandhis cheering for some team, and suddenly I see this. SRK and his dance with clothes borrowed from Daler Mehndi, and the prisoners and the Bharathnatyamers and that flaming helmet! What is he upto?

Ha, the door bell is ring-a-ringing. Goodbye Stolen Moments

Help! The 'to-do' list is empty

I was suffering the constant gnaws in my conscience...Built triangularly around it with bold arrows pushing each side inward...you get the rather gory picture right?

Side 1: Its summer vacation and I havent planned any constructive ways to occupy my childrens time. No holidays planned, no summer camps programmed...just the usual six hours at the creche where they can do whatever they please with fifteen other occupants of the space, who come in various shapes and guises - infants, toddlers, a resident grandma, a few ayahs and teachers, and one responsible seven year old.

Side 2: The never ending list of things i proposed to do around home when I get the time. SIMPLE ones like visiting the tailor, buying correct sized socks (of different, but unisex colours), coutning the number of spiders behind the TV; GRAND ones like installing the printer, figuring out the treadmill, growing plants etc.

Side 3: Work at office. If lesser elaborated, the sooner I can proceed with this post.

On Sunday afternoon, the husband was calling for a cab to take him to the airport... the smaller monster insisted that it too will accompany him on his trip(business) to Chennai....Why not! we said.... so we called to check about tix and BINGO they were off. Really and truly the monsters were whisked away by daddy dear to Chennai. And I have been alone ever since...(18 hours and counting the seconds...).

And now I seem to have nothing to do.

In response to the barrage...

kbpm's ranting on parental anxiety (among other things) made me recollect Peter Drucker sooth-saying (in 2000)about this century's revolution in human affairs.

"....In few hundred years, when the history of our time will be written from a long-term perspective, it is likely that the most important event historians will see is not technology, not the Internet, not e-commerce. It is an unprecedented change in the human condition. For the first time, literally, substantial and rapidly growing numbers of people have choice...."

Isn't that quite amazing and so true? Our generation can actually can feel the effects....to make your work relevant or irrelvant to your education, to work (outside of home) full time, part time or no time, to raise children in any crazy way we think fit, locational and vocational choices across geography, to see eye-to-eye or fist-to fist with parents, in-laws, neighbours, the whole lot..the list goes on.

I confess I get stressed out thinking what will happen to seven year olds who have GREAT diffculty with spellings and letter sounds (one reason why I adamantly refuse to watch TZP), but I believe they will very shortly be mature enough to understand their shortcomings and find something off beat that they will excel and also be passionate about.

Fireflies

The annual Fireflies Music Festival is a dusk to dawn affair. It happens in a 80 acre farm cum ashram cum cultural centre tucked away in a village called Dinnepalya nearly fifteen kilometeres down Kanakapura road. An open air amphitheater, a makefshift stage propped up against a huge pipal tree, with rocky steps serving as seats. Theres a huge canopy of trees, with a small aperture to view the starlit sky.

Go there next year - with kids, friends, pillows, mattresses, food, drinks.... and enjoy. This year I was stirred by Shabnam Virmanis performance of Kabirs poetry in the Malwa style. She was totally 'magan' and held the audience in that state as well. She is a documentary film-maker by profession. And an awesome singer.

Sentiment

Broke a bottle of perfume this morning. Never the one to really follow rules that dictate replacing lids tightly and never holding glass bottles by the lid, it had to happen sooner or later....Though with this particular item it has taken a full eight years. On numerous occassions these past eight years I have rapped two tiny pairs of fingers for climbing shelves and reaching to all things on shelf three.

The mess was slovenly cleaned up. But the whole apartment was emanating fire and ice. My neighbour offered her condolences and asked if it was a rarely-used treasured object, and if I had wanted wanted to preserve for forever kinds. I was stunned at this thought. She was equally stunned at my surprise. She said she has a bottle of perfume that she had used at her wedding and that she often just smells it to recollect those moments.

Hmm...this thing occupied my mind for a few hours. I guess the environment has conditioned me. My parents moved homes/places every single year till I was fourteen. That meant eight different schools till class eight. The cleanliness freaks made sure there never was anything in the house that was not currently in use or good shape. Except of course things that were produced using Guttenberg's ideas. No artworks (if only they had been preserved - I could have VOWed my current art instructor), no school books/notebooks beyond the last day of school for the year. Though I do remember somehow culling a whole load of greeting cards (only the pictures...the messages carefully scissored away) over the decades, and my brothers having truckloads of stamps. We even disposed off the veena when I discontinued my lessons!

My in-laws...they are different. They are very sentimentally attached to places, people and things. When we visited their village last month, it was moving to listen to their narration of the house they lived in, the fields they had tilled, the temples they worshipped, the rivers they swam in... Last year they gave S the piggy bank that their children had used. They even fished out the key from and ocean of metal stuff. The ocean also yielded cute kid-sized dinner plates about thirty years new.

Now, after all these years, in the scale of sentiment I can claim to be somewhere in between my in-laws and parents, tilting more towards the former. But still, worshipping perfume bottles....I still have a long way to go.

To continue lifting lines from an ancient poetry book (my fathers copy!) to which I am sentimentally attached.. heres Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Spring

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown-
Who ponders this tremendous scene-
This whole Experiment of Green-
As if it were his own!

Ah! Its real. Spring is here.

The glorious trees of the city are in full bloom. I spot the purple Jacarandas, the orange Flame of the Forest and numerous unknown ones...trees and plants that I never could have guessed sported flowers anytime. Its a refreshing sight.

And there are concerts galore to shake the really stubborn ones from hibernation. Took the little ones to Kadri Gopalnath and Mandolin Srinivas....we hardly managed to stay one hour at each, but we all enjoyed the experience.

And then my company has changed its name. The third time in three years!

Have scouted around for painting classes (for myself). Am waiting for inspiration to ignore the constraints of schedules to actually enroll.

And if spring is here can summer be far behind? My kids are doing vacation planning already. They want to see Red Fort and India Gate. They want to see Mumbai. My husband wants to eat the Delhi bread pakodas and parathas on the way-side. And I want to attend two weddings. And to buy coordinated paavadais for all the girls. Poor S though.

And thankfully the V day is over and done with. All newspapers, all TV channels will have not speak about it for one next 300 days (at least). Even CNBC had a V Day Closing Bell program! S thought that it was a festival like Id and Christmas which our family dosent historically celebrate. I decided to leave him at peace with that reasoning. It will last perhaps two more years, and then his ideas will change.

And then Jodaha Akbar is set to release. I dont know anybody who opines that its gonna be anything other than a failure...like the Umrao..I guess.Hrithik as Akbar. Its unsettling. Rai in jewelry more formidable than an armour. But it has got some peaceful music.

So long...till the Mango season arrives