Knowledge

A breezy, rainy and dark Bangalore night. I was on my way to City Railway station on an auto. Not through any familiar routes. Through streets littered with godowns where rain had stalled loading and unloading activities. Labourers huddled under canvas shacks. Fallen treee trunks everywhere. Names like Dewan Bahadur Royan Road. Paranoia lurks.

Just then the conversation flows with the driver. In urdu and madrasi mixed hindi. Along the way he asked me if Mumbai and Chennai are different places. What could I say? How do I make sense of his question?

Heres a man who has been ferrying countless souls across this city on his auto - perhaps for 30 years now. Perhaps he has fathered three or four children. Circumstances may have made him a husband to more than one woman. And this piece of information he sought seems so basic to me. To think that he could have carried on with life this long without ever stumbling upon the obvious answer to this question. Wouldnt his children know this? Wouldnt the vernacular newspapers he reads shed some light on it?

Now, to look at this the other way. Is it really vital that he know this? He has made a living thus far and exudes a condiserable sense of satisfaction with life. What knowledge is essential? Multiplication tables at the speed of light? States and Capitals? Makes me further ponder the educational system that is manufacturing minds for cubiclcedom.

The 80 clicks tag

Responding to the tag by Chox on five things I love about being a mom....I have modified it to five things that I love about having children.

1. Noise. I love the enhanced noise levels when my children are around. Laughing, wailing, screeching, screaming, scratching, smashing... It soothes (and sometimes numbs) my brain.
2. Patience. I can put up with ANY pace of progress on ANY front. Relatives (including my dad) who knew me as a short-tempered witch can hardly believe the change that my children have made me undergo. I view it as a positive change
3. Back-to-Basics learning. To anticipate, To answer (and sometimes Google together), To learn. Is there a traffic policeman for so many satellites cirlcing the earth?
4. Good company: Three of us are good company to go to parties where we wouldnt know anyone other than the hosts.
5. Readymade Fan Club: They like and appreciate what I cook. And we love cooking together.

Ten Random Notes

1. 50% of my children have been promoted to the next class (UKG). The fate of the remaining 50% will be known on Monday.
2. Grandparents arrived last month along with the exams and made life a lot easier for ALL of us.
3. I have done the usual screaming at messy rooms strewn with Monopoly and Carrom artifacts, hands ingrained with grime after playing cricket with filthy balls in filthy shoes (no socks of course) in absolutely unhygienic 'play grounds'.
4. I did not dare yell at broken nail polish bottles - which resulted in hands, legs and nose dyed (red) in nail polish for two full days. Nor did I dare comment on strange cartoons that had sprung up on the walls of the kids room. I did not dare... because the culprit was the younger one.
5. Incident 4 listed above took another avataar in the form of eyeliners in my teenaged nieces room. The niece and I haven't seen eye-to-eye since.
6. Both the monsters' schools have redesigned the respective uniforms. That extends my shopping list.
7. They spent two nights at my sister-in-laws place at the other end of town. I felt miserable at home in this end of town. You know the usual feeling - all quiet, quite lonely etc. Inspite of this, am contemplating leaving them in Chennai for a month
8. We dont have any VACATION plans. Though I have been consulted by all and sundry on their respective plans. What kid friendly food to take on long drives? How best to pack light for Ooty (in MAY!)? Is cooked Maggi better than cup-o-noodles with hot water and all the crap? Best temples?
9. I entered a swimming pool after ages. I didnt swim, but just hung around in the water. But five days later, my upper arms still hurt. They are the most awkward and most high maintenance body part.
10. Painting classes - I am resolving once again to enroll myself in one.
    (This blog is truly useful in noting making. I was trying hard to remember how the last summer was spent, and the blog readily gave me clues. So, this is just another attempt to assist my worn out memory cells next year)

Coming Home

Long day at work. Crawl in early, but leave early too..around 4:30pm. Drive back home..pick up groceries mid way...answer a few phone calls...mind still partially occupied with the office. Scurry up the steps to the library. Hmmm....long time since i read Vikram Seth. And whats that! A transaltion of Sivasankari...hmm.. Will probably settle for John Updike now. Must catch the Branson autobiog sometime....saunter back to the car still sorting out if Sivasnkari should be read in Tamil or translation.

Traffic jams...so take the internal detour. Heart rejoices at seeing vacation spirit in full swing. Kids of all ages ...cricket in the middle of the street along with skating, badminton, cycling.. a few 'older' ones exchanging ten rupees at a shop for ben ten cheetos and bumbaaloos.

Ah, the final turn towards my home appears. I 'wake' up with a start....where are my kids? what would they be upto? how will the home look? At its best its a zoo of stuffed animals or a car showroom. At its worst its a tsunami town, with powdered Marie bicuits to guise the ruins. Monopoly? Sand Craft? Play Doh? Oh NNNNNOO!

If S is IN the pool, what about V? Will they be doing some stupid acts of bravado in water? i hate the game they play called Life Saver...Perhaps V would be at her friends place. Will they be nice and playing doll-doll? Would they have scratched each other, and made a scene? May be they would all be rolling in the sand. Maybe they would be having a nice game of cricket. May be cycling...a few bruises.

How are their grandparents through all this.Should i be prepared to see them ready to leave by the next possible means of transport to Chennai?

Reality always dawns only at the last turn home.

Ageing

1. I have absolutely no enthusiasm or energy to do any activity with the kids on my own - gone are the days when I would go on long drives with them, travel fourteen hours by flight or train, or just enjoy sitting around them doing some silly collages and finger paintin - all without any support from spouse or nanny.

2. My husband insists that we can no longer be refered to as a 'couple' - even by well meaning DJs at sundry parties. Its a term, he says, that is reserved for 20 somethings only.

3. My older one S, refuses to be part of any mom and kids dances.

4. My younger one, V, has assured me that I no longer need to carry milk powder and a flask of hot water whenever we travel.

Sigh, Sigh

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.

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.