I sometimes wonder about to the role a God’s presence in our life. I grew up believing that there is someone up there who is watching us and we need to account for our actions when we finally get to meet Him. It was this accountability that perhaps made me what I am today. Little things like “annalakshmi will cry” or “Saami (God) will poke one’s eyes if one cheated etc. went a long way in training me to be fair minded and to appreciate that we had enough to eat while there were many others who went to bed hungry. It also helped me feel compassionate towards those in need.
Unlike my Christian friends we, in our family, were under no compulsion to pray on a regular basis or go to the temple on a particular day. But we were expected to leave all work and assemble in the room marked out for prayers when the puja was over and camphor was lit. Whenever it rained and thundered we’d close our eyes and pray saying “Arjuna abhayam” meaning that like Arjun of the Mahabharat we were also seeking the blessings of Lord Krishna who was saying ‘why fear when I am here?’ So albeit in a very subtle way, we were being inculcated into believing that our life was being monitored by God.
On growing up and having developed a logical mind I have often wondered whether those who do not believe in God have missed something and also whether the belief actually sustains those who do. I remember a conversation I had with a friend and colleague who had just lost a sister.
“God balances everything.” I had said. “When HE tries your faith by giving you cause to grieve, HE also rewards you by granting you something to rejoice over.”
“How do you say this didi?” she asked. “My mother lost her mother at the age of five and was raised by a step mother. She had a bad marriage and she divorced my father. She went through the trouble of educating us and getting us married. Just when she began to relax, my sister, an air hostess with a great future, was brutally murdered for dowry. The court lets her husband roam free due to lack of evidence and a girl, related to us, marries the man despite knowing the whole story. Where is the divine justice that you talk about?”
Her mother died two years later and I am still looking for answers.
A friend of mine lost her husband two years back and is yet to come to terms with it and accept the fact that death is the only sure thing about life and it can happen in any manner. She and her younger son who claim to be agnostics take medication for depression but the older son, who is a practicing Christian, firmly believes that his father is in heaven and is watching over him. His attitude is positive.
I do not reject the existence of God outright. I believe that there is god in each of us. The God within us is the voice of our conscience that keeps warning us when we go wrong. The Hindu philosophy, that our actions alone count and that one is accountable for bad karma, has been propounded after a lot of deep thinking. The welfare of society is maintained by this belief and people learn to deal with life’s blows thinking that the perpetrators of misery will have to answer for their misdeeds. They get on with their lives believing that God will take care of things. The same goes with Christian teachings that advices man to ‘do unto others what you would have others do unto you’. It helps one control negative vibes and refrain from deliberately harming others.I am sure that the Koran, Gurugranth and other religious books also say something similar.
But then all this applies to those of us who lead ordinary lives. The politician who siphons off millions and millions of public money seems to think that taxpayers are actually paying for him to invest in appropriate shady deals to an extent that he wouldn’t even remember the number of investments actually made by him. His PA would be entitled to own a dozen houses in posh localities and perhaps his gatekeeper would be a millionaire. The God within them is conveniently drugged and goes off to sleep like Rip Van Winkle.
I have not actually seen God. But I do meet his representatives from time to time. My maternal grandfather and uncle are personifications of God in my life. Thanks to them we grew up like other children without missing the presence of a father in our lives. My husband is being helped by a seventy year old man completely unknown to him till a few years back. This man is not a practicing advocate or a qualified lawyer yet he spends his time giving free legal advice to those who come to him. That he does not charge any fees for his services is one thing, he also arranges for lawyers, who like him are selfless and fight cases in the lower as well as high courts for a nominal fee. My husband’s was case filed in Jharkhand High court and the verdict was given in his favor. All this happened in 2006. We left for America soon after the case was filed and the lawyer took care of everything. My husband returned from America in about 5 months and came to know that the case had been disposed of in his favor. Can you believe that the entire process cost him only Rs. 3000/- ? We have not even met the lawyer in person. We are asked to see God in everything. I am not such a great soul to put this advice to practice. But I do see God in such people who can mint money if they choose to but refrain from doing so.
The God factor is important in that it helps one get past trying times. It enables us to accept unhappy and shattering experiences with equanimity and accept them as God’s will. Very often a shattering experience results in something better at a later stage and the bitterness felt earlier is forgotten. It does not matter which God or mentor one chooses to trust. What matters is that faith strengthens the mind and energizes the spirit. Agnostics and atheists place their faith in themselves which again is like trusting God because the scriptures say there is god in all things and before anything else, one is accountable to one’s own conscience. Life is but a chain of trust and the first link in the chain is the trust one places on him/herself.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
STORY TIME
This is a piece that I wrote some 4 years back and it is special because it was my first published work. It was published in Woman's Era in 2005. It was saved in my computer and I was looking for something else and this one popped up. The kids in the story are my brother's daughters who have now grown up into responsible young girls with the older one doing her Dentistry in Coimbatore and the younger one planning to follow her soon. They are both trained in Bharatanatyam and re reading this piece makes me wish to go back in time and enjoy the days when they were kids in their pre - teens. i dedicate this post to their bright future.
As a fresh graduate I often entertained my younger siblings and their friends to a story session whenever there was a power cut in the locality. We would light a candle and form a circle around it and I would narrate to them stories selected from a wide and variable range. I was an avid reader so there was never a dearth of good fiction. These stories would be narrated with such fervor that my young wide-eyed audience would laugh or weep as the situation demanded. The hero, the villain, the step- mother, and all other characters in the story were real people and were critically analyzed during dinner -time. They would go on to suggest a different conclusion or a better treatment of the plot and feel thrilled when their idea was accepted. Those were days before the television made its entry into rural homes and this was a means of healthy entertainment.
My own children never came to me for stories. My father in law was a well-read man and he took charge of supervising their study time and home work each evening and would reward them with a story while I prepared dinner. The children looked forward to their story time and since it was conditional and subject to their finishing the given assignments, their studies were also simultaneously taken care of. For this purpose he would religiously read children’s fiction and fairy tales while I took it easy and thanked god for small mercies.
My earlier success as a story -teller encouraged me to try the same with the next generation and not realizing their potential I offered to tell them a story. The next generation comprised of my brother’s daughters Shruti and Shweta who were smart young girls studying in the primary section of a reputed school in Mumbai. They belonged to the digital age and had grown up watching TV! The story was from a movie I had watched as a schoolgirl and was the vernacular version of an English movie The parent trap. It was also one that I had earlier narrated to my younger brothers including the father of the two girls.
“A long time ago there were two sisters who were twins” I began.
“But how can sisters be TWINS?” Shweta asked.
“Be quiet! She means twin sisters.” Shruti the older one explained. I could not understand the difference however much I tried. Anyway I was grateful for her timely help and continued the story. “The older one was called….”
“But aunty you said they were twins” this was Shruti.
“She was older by a few minutes” I explained.
“By how many minutes?” interrupted Shweta.
“May be ten or twelve” I replied. “The sisters were called Lalli and Pappi.”
“I don’t like their names. They’re too old fashioned. I’ll suggest new names for them,” said Shruti.
“Me too” said Shweta.
After this I lost track of who was saying what. I just sat through the discussion that followed.
“I’ll call them Riya and Rini”
“Never ever! They’ll be called Anu and Vinu”
“Those are not real names. They’re only nicknames. Any way they sound stupid”
“They sound stupid to you because you’re stupid”
“Aunty! She’s calling me names”
“You started it silly!”
“Why don’t you get lost?”
“Why not YOU? You’re not wanted here any way.”
“Who are you to say it? This is my house and I’ll stay here as much as I want and as long as I wish to.”
“This is daddy’s house not yours”.
The debate continued for what seemed to me an eternity.
I felt lost and inept to arbitrate. My head started reeling and I had to call for their mother’s intervention. My own children had grown up and I had lost touch with children in their pre – teens. The mother knew exactly how to tackle them. She made them suggest a name each and solved their dispute in a minute. I felt like a fool.
The naming ceremony was over but I had no energy to continue. I seemed to have forgotten half the story and needed a cup of coffee to revive my spirits. I did not have the heart to let the children down so I continued with the story. I tried to impress upon them the efforts taken by the children in the story to bring their estranged parents together. The story did not seem to provoke emotions and perhaps the plot, to their minds, sounded outdated. This was a generation of SUPERMEN and SPIDERMEN and the world could be accessed at the press of a button. They may not have found the escapades of characters in the story interesting. I felt a little dejected over my failure as a storyteller. I left home to visit a friend planning to give up story telling for life. After a pleasant evening, spent at my friend’s place recalling our childhood days, I returned home at ten in the evening. To my greatest surprise the two little girls were waiting for me in the front room waiting to hear the next story! They had invited their cousin to sleep over and their beaming father told me that the girls were superb narrators and had since afternoon kept their friends entertained with a modified modern version of my story without destroying its essence. They had animated discussions about the plot and characters, found alternative methods to deal with the villain of the story. Their heroine for instance abandoned the old-fashioned post office route and communicated via e-mail and the villain did not bother to threaten the postman or snatch letters from the servant. He simply hacked passwords and deleted mails. My brothers who had a pleasant reminder of yester years joined their children to listen to yet another of my stories!
The experience however was an eye opener. Children would remain children and they had enjoyed the experience. I had worried in vain. I am now a grandmother and soon my grand daughter will be asking me for bedtime stories. Keeping pace with changing times I’ve asked Shruti and Shweta to update me with stories that the new additions to the family would prefer!
As a fresh graduate I often entertained my younger siblings and their friends to a story session whenever there was a power cut in the locality. We would light a candle and form a circle around it and I would narrate to them stories selected from a wide and variable range. I was an avid reader so there was never a dearth of good fiction. These stories would be narrated with such fervor that my young wide-eyed audience would laugh or weep as the situation demanded. The hero, the villain, the step- mother, and all other characters in the story were real people and were critically analyzed during dinner -time. They would go on to suggest a different conclusion or a better treatment of the plot and feel thrilled when their idea was accepted. Those were days before the television made its entry into rural homes and this was a means of healthy entertainment.
My own children never came to me for stories. My father in law was a well-read man and he took charge of supervising their study time and home work each evening and would reward them with a story while I prepared dinner. The children looked forward to their story time and since it was conditional and subject to their finishing the given assignments, their studies were also simultaneously taken care of. For this purpose he would religiously read children’s fiction and fairy tales while I took it easy and thanked god for small mercies.
My earlier success as a story -teller encouraged me to try the same with the next generation and not realizing their potential I offered to tell them a story. The next generation comprised of my brother’s daughters Shruti and Shweta who were smart young girls studying in the primary section of a reputed school in Mumbai. They belonged to the digital age and had grown up watching TV! The story was from a movie I had watched as a schoolgirl and was the vernacular version of an English movie The parent trap. It was also one that I had earlier narrated to my younger brothers including the father of the two girls.
“A long time ago there were two sisters who were twins” I began.
“But how can sisters be TWINS?” Shweta asked.
“Be quiet! She means twin sisters.” Shruti the older one explained. I could not understand the difference however much I tried. Anyway I was grateful for her timely help and continued the story. “The older one was called….”
“But aunty you said they were twins” this was Shruti.
“She was older by a few minutes” I explained.
“By how many minutes?” interrupted Shweta.
“May be ten or twelve” I replied. “The sisters were called Lalli and Pappi.”
“I don’t like their names. They’re too old fashioned. I’ll suggest new names for them,” said Shruti.
“Me too” said Shweta.
After this I lost track of who was saying what. I just sat through the discussion that followed.
“I’ll call them Riya and Rini”
“Never ever! They’ll be called Anu and Vinu”
“Those are not real names. They’re only nicknames. Any way they sound stupid”
“They sound stupid to you because you’re stupid”
“Aunty! She’s calling me names”
“You started it silly!”
“Why don’t you get lost?”
“Why not YOU? You’re not wanted here any way.”
“Who are you to say it? This is my house and I’ll stay here as much as I want and as long as I wish to.”
“This is daddy’s house not yours”.
The debate continued for what seemed to me an eternity.
I felt lost and inept to arbitrate. My head started reeling and I had to call for their mother’s intervention. My own children had grown up and I had lost touch with children in their pre – teens. The mother knew exactly how to tackle them. She made them suggest a name each and solved their dispute in a minute. I felt like a fool.
The naming ceremony was over but I had no energy to continue. I seemed to have forgotten half the story and needed a cup of coffee to revive my spirits. I did not have the heart to let the children down so I continued with the story. I tried to impress upon them the efforts taken by the children in the story to bring their estranged parents together. The story did not seem to provoke emotions and perhaps the plot, to their minds, sounded outdated. This was a generation of SUPERMEN and SPIDERMEN and the world could be accessed at the press of a button. They may not have found the escapades of characters in the story interesting. I felt a little dejected over my failure as a storyteller. I left home to visit a friend planning to give up story telling for life. After a pleasant evening, spent at my friend’s place recalling our childhood days, I returned home at ten in the evening. To my greatest surprise the two little girls were waiting for me in the front room waiting to hear the next story! They had invited their cousin to sleep over and their beaming father told me that the girls were superb narrators and had since afternoon kept their friends entertained with a modified modern version of my story without destroying its essence. They had animated discussions about the plot and characters, found alternative methods to deal with the villain of the story. Their heroine for instance abandoned the old-fashioned post office route and communicated via e-mail and the villain did not bother to threaten the postman or snatch letters from the servant. He simply hacked passwords and deleted mails. My brothers who had a pleasant reminder of yester years joined their children to listen to yet another of my stories!
The experience however was an eye opener. Children would remain children and they had enjoyed the experience. I had worried in vain. I am now a grandmother and soon my grand daughter will be asking me for bedtime stories. Keeping pace with changing times I’ve asked Shruti and Shweta to update me with stories that the new additions to the family would prefer!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The 'other woman'
Of late I’ve been hearing a lot about the ‘other woman’ in a man’s life. A court verdict has ruled that a man’s second wife/partner is entitled to property rights just like his first wife and if I am not mistaken this applies to a live in relationship as well. I don’t want to go into the legalities of such an arrangement or argue whether such a verdict would or would not act as deterrent to the not so serious flings that men and women tend to have without the commitment that is called marriage. I merely wish to analyze whether it is okay to paint the mistress/second wife black and call her names just because she involved herself knowingly or unknowingly with a married man? Is there perhaps another side to the story? I know it is easy for me to offer my opinion having never faced such a situation but a few cases known to me make me wonder what went wrong and also if those of us who pass judgment are overlooking the trauma faced by the so called ‘other woman’.
As an undergrad student studying in Trichy some years back when I had neither age nor maturity I remember announcing that if my husband ever had an affair, I’d let him go and have nothing to do with him. There was no point, I argued, in continuing my relationship with a cheating husband. I’d show him the door……. We were actually analyzing the situation in a hit movie and our sympathies naturally lay with the unsuspecting, god like heroine who sang soulful songs to express her agony. She finally forgave the errant husband and the other woman was suitably punished.
My friend agreed heartily but added that she’d show him the door too but only after making life hell for him and his mistress. Others too agreed but suggested punishments like rolling him down the stairs, scooping out his eyeballs etc. etc.
But movies are movies and real life stories are different.
Take for instance the case of Veena (name changed) that took place 40 years back around the time we had the above mentioned argument. She was working in a multinational company and fell in love with her married boss and could do nothing about it. She married him against the advice of well wishers. Her parents in law sided with the first wife and the couple moved to the middle-east. She felt guilty about having wronged the first wife and decided not to have children of her own. Unfortunately her husband died. She continued to support his family-got his daughter married and educated his son. Now with the parents in law passing away, the two women live together and the children love her, if not more at least as much as they love their natural mother. Veena was related to me by marriage and I may be biased in my opinion of her. But I find it equally difficult to be harsh on D…….. who I know only from a distance.
D……. was at the receiving end of life’s blows. Her husband was an irresponsible sadist who troubled and tortured her day in and day out. She found solace in the company of a family friend and finally walked out of her marriage and married him who agreed to look after her daughters as well. She was of course highly criticized and I am afraid I too agreed to the view that walking out of an abusive marriage was one thing but marrying an already married man and disturbing his family life was quite another thing . I agree, hers was a marriage of convenience. I noticed that she had to be fiercely protective of her daughters and could not trust them to remain alone with the step father. Nothing in her life was easy. She educated her daughters, got them married and looked after their children while they went to work. She never for a moment kept them under the illusion that her husband was going to support them, the way a natural father would. There was an invisible line drawn and the girls rose to her expectations. It is not easy for grown up girls to support their mother under the circumstances but they did. She is no more and her husband has gone now back to his first family. The girls are happy attending to one another’s needs. They hardly have anything to do with their step father.
I sometimes wonder if she was happy with her choice. Wagging tongues and prying eyes notwithstanding, she perhaps wanted some protection from her first husband both for herself and her daughters. But even after marrying someone known to her she had to worry about their safety and could not bring herself to trust him. Somehow I am not as critical of her as before. One does not know the circumstances that led to her decision.
What are the circumstances that lead to extra marital relationships I wonder? We see highly educated qualified women agreeing to marry men who are already married and never accord them the same respect that they give their first wives. AG married D soon after her graduation. Her father sensed that all was not well and encouraged her to do her Masters and later to appear for the National Eligibility Test for lectureship. Educating girls and encouraging them to work was unheard of in her family. She realized that her husband was having an affair with a divorcee and walked out of the marriage with her children and took up a job in a new town. Today the second wife is insecure and keeps calling her to know the whereabouts of the husband! And despite the misery she caused, AG is inwardly sympathetic towards her. For all you know the man may be having an affair with a third woman, she says.
I can go on and on. It is easy for one to sympathize with the wronged woman. She deserves all the support that can be given to her. But what about the ‘other woman’?
She is neither respected nor supported. Her needs could have been emotional but who cares for her emotions? She is a home breaker and that’s it. Does anyone ever stop to think of the insecurity she may be experiencing? No one seems to criticize the man who abandons his first wife for whatever reason.
‘Men are like that only’ is the famous refrain. Either the first wife was not smart enough or the second wily, crafty and what not. No one seems to think that both of them cared enough for each other and were willing to face the outcome by marrying against all odds.
I hope I am not giving you the impression that I endorse extra marital affairs. Far from it I feel that in the unfortunate event of falling in love with an already married person, one should insist on proper divorce proceedings. Again I say that it is easy for me to sympathize with the women, having never faced the situation myself. Those who have, know the sorrow that inevitably follows and the sense of inadequacy that one feels for having let one’s husband go. This is not a black and white situation and there are several shades of grey that fall in between.
As an undergrad student studying in Trichy some years back when I had neither age nor maturity I remember announcing that if my husband ever had an affair, I’d let him go and have nothing to do with him. There was no point, I argued, in continuing my relationship with a cheating husband. I’d show him the door……. We were actually analyzing the situation in a hit movie and our sympathies naturally lay with the unsuspecting, god like heroine who sang soulful songs to express her agony. She finally forgave the errant husband and the other woman was suitably punished.
My friend agreed heartily but added that she’d show him the door too but only after making life hell for him and his mistress. Others too agreed but suggested punishments like rolling him down the stairs, scooping out his eyeballs etc. etc.
But movies are movies and real life stories are different.
Take for instance the case of Veena (name changed) that took place 40 years back around the time we had the above mentioned argument. She was working in a multinational company and fell in love with her married boss and could do nothing about it. She married him against the advice of well wishers. Her parents in law sided with the first wife and the couple moved to the middle-east. She felt guilty about having wronged the first wife and decided not to have children of her own. Unfortunately her husband died. She continued to support his family-got his daughter married and educated his son. Now with the parents in law passing away, the two women live together and the children love her, if not more at least as much as they love their natural mother. Veena was related to me by marriage and I may be biased in my opinion of her. But I find it equally difficult to be harsh on D…….. who I know only from a distance.
D……. was at the receiving end of life’s blows. Her husband was an irresponsible sadist who troubled and tortured her day in and day out. She found solace in the company of a family friend and finally walked out of her marriage and married him who agreed to look after her daughters as well. She was of course highly criticized and I am afraid I too agreed to the view that walking out of an abusive marriage was one thing but marrying an already married man and disturbing his family life was quite another thing . I agree, hers was a marriage of convenience. I noticed that she had to be fiercely protective of her daughters and could not trust them to remain alone with the step father. Nothing in her life was easy. She educated her daughters, got them married and looked after their children while they went to work. She never for a moment kept them under the illusion that her husband was going to support them, the way a natural father would. There was an invisible line drawn and the girls rose to her expectations. It is not easy for grown up girls to support their mother under the circumstances but they did. She is no more and her husband has gone now back to his first family. The girls are happy attending to one another’s needs. They hardly have anything to do with their step father.
I sometimes wonder if she was happy with her choice. Wagging tongues and prying eyes notwithstanding, she perhaps wanted some protection from her first husband both for herself and her daughters. But even after marrying someone known to her she had to worry about their safety and could not bring herself to trust him. Somehow I am not as critical of her as before. One does not know the circumstances that led to her decision.
What are the circumstances that lead to extra marital relationships I wonder? We see highly educated qualified women agreeing to marry men who are already married and never accord them the same respect that they give their first wives. AG married D soon after her graduation. Her father sensed that all was not well and encouraged her to do her Masters and later to appear for the National Eligibility Test for lectureship. Educating girls and encouraging them to work was unheard of in her family. She realized that her husband was having an affair with a divorcee and walked out of the marriage with her children and took up a job in a new town. Today the second wife is insecure and keeps calling her to know the whereabouts of the husband! And despite the misery she caused, AG is inwardly sympathetic towards her. For all you know the man may be having an affair with a third woman, she says.
I can go on and on. It is easy for one to sympathize with the wronged woman. She deserves all the support that can be given to her. But what about the ‘other woman’?
She is neither respected nor supported. Her needs could have been emotional but who cares for her emotions? She is a home breaker and that’s it. Does anyone ever stop to think of the insecurity she may be experiencing? No one seems to criticize the man who abandons his first wife for whatever reason.
‘Men are like that only’ is the famous refrain. Either the first wife was not smart enough or the second wily, crafty and what not. No one seems to think that both of them cared enough for each other and were willing to face the outcome by marrying against all odds.
I hope I am not giving you the impression that I endorse extra marital affairs. Far from it I feel that in the unfortunate event of falling in love with an already married person, one should insist on proper divorce proceedings. Again I say that it is easy for me to sympathize with the women, having never faced the situation myself. Those who have, know the sorrow that inevitably follows and the sense of inadequacy that one feels for having let one’s husband go. This is not a black and white situation and there are several shades of grey that fall in between.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Gup Shap again
I know it is late but Happy Diwali all the same. I hope you all had a nice and safe Deepavali.I reached home just a day before Deepavali so we made it very, very
simple.
It has been a long time since I posted anything on my blog. I think I am going through one of those lethargic phases when one just does not feel like doing anything. The trip to the south was exhausting and made me pledge never to fit in so much of travel in future trips. Considering the accident prone world we live in I am glad to have returned to my niche in a single piece. In Karnataka it appeared as if the rains followed us giving us just enough time to leave a place before creating havoc there. Unfortunately we were unable to enjoy the natural beauty of the western ghats since we were holed up in a hotel room most of the time.
I had high hopes of meeting Suranga, Usha, Aarthi, Srijith and Riti during this trip. Lack of communication was the only reason for missing out Suranga and Srijith who live within walking distance of the place I was staying in Mumbai and Chennai. As for Srijith I felt lousy staring at an apartment complex near Balaiyya garden bus stop and wondering whether he actually lived there. I must have crossed the place at least twice a day but I did not have his phone number and I was being punished for my laid back attitude. Sorry folks, there will be a next time and that is a promise
Coming back to Jamshedpur feels good. Where else can one leave home at 10:15 AM and reach one’s workplace before 10:30 AM? Where else can one go on long winding walks for an hour and return all set and fresh to take on another day? I can hear my brothers and sister both natural and by marriage call me a ‘pattikkadu’ (villager) unaccustomed to smart city ways. True, we all get used to a particular life style and claim it to be the best. Every time I meet my folk I am under a kind of dilemma as to whether I should continue in Jamshepur after retirement or move out to Chennai, Bangalore or Mumbai. But city life baffles me and finally I decide that our good old Jampot is the best place for an ageing couple to spend the final lap of their life on earth.
Post retirement I need to take up an assignment and absent myself for at least 5 hours each day. Or else my husband is going to drive me nuts and I’ll be churning out sob stories in my blog. I had copied out a piece on ‘Golden Retirement’ 3 years back and like the lady who authored the piece I think I am going to have him velcroed to my hips if I dared to stay home. Can you imagine the areas in which he awaits my response are?
I’d have returned from college and would be relaxing in my bedroom with a magazine in hand.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Okay.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Please do. And take the keys with you. I may doze off to sleep
HIM: What did you say?
I ignore the question. He has almost reached the door and comes back just to ask if I had said something. I could not have asked for a cuter husband but I really wish he could just go and get the milk instead of waiting for my approval in matters that don’t matter at all.
Jokes apart, I don’t blame him. There was a time when we had to worry about so many things. A child’s admission, hostel bills, father in law’s health concerns etc. etc. There now seems to be a sudden void in our lives. That brings home another realization. When a person has nothing to look forward to, one’s life becomes monotonous and boring. That is exactly why his concern touches my heart.
Did you take your medicines?
It is getting cold. Why not wear a half sweater?
I am drawing out my quarterly interest from the post office. Shall I deposit a part of it in your account?
The questions continue and they are important because they sustain us. The phone rings and I pick it up.
He appears at the door.
Who? He gestures.
My friend. I reply.
He goes off nodding his head.
To those of you leading a busy life these things may not matter. May be not yet. But to us it reiterates the fact that we need to remain fit and well if not for ourselves at least for the other person. We have made ourselves so very interdependent that very often he says something that I was just about to say. This brings to my mind another malaise that seems to have inflicted society of late - couples opting to separate in the twilight of their lives. I recently heard of a person known to me with grown up and married children opting out of marriage. They may or may not go for a divorce but they certainly prefer to lead separate lives. Each one says that the other is free to come and stay with him/her but on his/her terms and conditions. When I discuss this with friends they say that people are more honest these days. Why put up with an arrangement that is no longer agreeable? There is some logic in this argument but is this the right solution? Like one says that children earlier put up with their parents since their common property generated the income that was required to support their families. It no longer holds in a society where parents see to it that children reach dizzy heights saying that their children should never go through the hardship they once faced. Parents too have set aside enough to lead an independent life post retirement. There is no question of anyone adjusting with the other person. But isn’t it taking things too far when a wife or husband refuses to be part of the other’s life at a time when there is an acute need for meaningful companionship? I’ve known children supporting the mother and abandoning their father. Perhaps they feel that a mother’s presence in their homes would be more useful to their working wives than their father’s who would do nothing but occupy the front room reading the day’s newspaper.
Be it as it may I still subscribe to the view that old age is meant to be spent together whatever be one’s differences in day to day life. As for me I cannot imagine life without the domineering presence of my old man so what if he bugs me with irrelevant questions all the time.
simple.
It has been a long time since I posted anything on my blog. I think I am going through one of those lethargic phases when one just does not feel like doing anything. The trip to the south was exhausting and made me pledge never to fit in so much of travel in future trips. Considering the accident prone world we live in I am glad to have returned to my niche in a single piece. In Karnataka it appeared as if the rains followed us giving us just enough time to leave a place before creating havoc there. Unfortunately we were unable to enjoy the natural beauty of the western ghats since we were holed up in a hotel room most of the time.
I had high hopes of meeting Suranga, Usha, Aarthi, Srijith and Riti during this trip. Lack of communication was the only reason for missing out Suranga and Srijith who live within walking distance of the place I was staying in Mumbai and Chennai. As for Srijith I felt lousy staring at an apartment complex near Balaiyya garden bus stop and wondering whether he actually lived there. I must have crossed the place at least twice a day but I did not have his phone number and I was being punished for my laid back attitude. Sorry folks, there will be a next time and that is a promise
Coming back to Jamshedpur feels good. Where else can one leave home at 10:15 AM and reach one’s workplace before 10:30 AM? Where else can one go on long winding walks for an hour and return all set and fresh to take on another day? I can hear my brothers and sister both natural and by marriage call me a ‘pattikkadu’ (villager) unaccustomed to smart city ways. True, we all get used to a particular life style and claim it to be the best. Every time I meet my folk I am under a kind of dilemma as to whether I should continue in Jamshepur after retirement or move out to Chennai, Bangalore or Mumbai. But city life baffles me and finally I decide that our good old Jampot is the best place for an ageing couple to spend the final lap of their life on earth.
Post retirement I need to take up an assignment and absent myself for at least 5 hours each day. Or else my husband is going to drive me nuts and I’ll be churning out sob stories in my blog. I had copied out a piece on ‘Golden Retirement’ 3 years back and like the lady who authored the piece I think I am going to have him velcroed to my hips if I dared to stay home. Can you imagine the areas in which he awaits my response are?
I’d have returned from college and would be relaxing in my bedroom with a magazine in hand.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Okay.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Please do. And take the keys with you. I may doze off to sleep
HIM: What did you say?
I ignore the question. He has almost reached the door and comes back just to ask if I had said something. I could not have asked for a cuter husband but I really wish he could just go and get the milk instead of waiting for my approval in matters that don’t matter at all.
Jokes apart, I don’t blame him. There was a time when we had to worry about so many things. A child’s admission, hostel bills, father in law’s health concerns etc. etc. There now seems to be a sudden void in our lives. That brings home another realization. When a person has nothing to look forward to, one’s life becomes monotonous and boring. That is exactly why his concern touches my heart.
Did you take your medicines?
It is getting cold. Why not wear a half sweater?
I am drawing out my quarterly interest from the post office. Shall I deposit a part of it in your account?
The questions continue and they are important because they sustain us. The phone rings and I pick it up.
He appears at the door.
Who? He gestures.
My friend. I reply.
He goes off nodding his head.
To those of you leading a busy life these things may not matter. May be not yet. But to us it reiterates the fact that we need to remain fit and well if not for ourselves at least for the other person. We have made ourselves so very interdependent that very often he says something that I was just about to say. This brings to my mind another malaise that seems to have inflicted society of late - couples opting to separate in the twilight of their lives. I recently heard of a person known to me with grown up and married children opting out of marriage. They may or may not go for a divorce but they certainly prefer to lead separate lives. Each one says that the other is free to come and stay with him/her but on his/her terms and conditions. When I discuss this with friends they say that people are more honest these days. Why put up with an arrangement that is no longer agreeable? There is some logic in this argument but is this the right solution? Like one says that children earlier put up with their parents since their common property generated the income that was required to support their families. It no longer holds in a society where parents see to it that children reach dizzy heights saying that their children should never go through the hardship they once faced. Parents too have set aside enough to lead an independent life post retirement. There is no question of anyone adjusting with the other person. But isn’t it taking things too far when a wife or husband refuses to be part of the other’s life at a time when there is an acute need for meaningful companionship? I’ve known children supporting the mother and abandoning their father. Perhaps they feel that a mother’s presence in their homes would be more useful to their working wives than their father’s who would do nothing but occupy the front room reading the day’s newspaper.
Be it as it may I still subscribe to the view that old age is meant to be spent together whatever be one’s differences in day to day life. As for me I cannot imagine life without the domineering presence of my old man so what if he bugs me with irrelevant questions all the time.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Tagged by Renu.....
This was a tag given to me by Renu long back. To be honest these are not the actual responses by my children. Knowing them, this is what I expect them to say. Just meant to be laughed off.
Mama: What is something I always say to you?
Son: You say so many things. The list is long.
Daughter: I don't think you've kind of insisted on anything. So can't really say.
Me: A talkative person like me hasn't said much? Not very complimentary :-((.
Mama: What makes me happy?
Son: The quick retorts you get from me. But for me you would lose your mental sharpness.
Daughter: You are generally happy but you seem happiest in tackling adverse situations. Challenges seem to give you a high.
Me: so true:)
Mama: What makes me sad?
Son: Anyone whose sob story impresses you. God knows how many people find your shoulders suitable to cry on. Honestly, I've lost count.
Daughter:Treachery and your inability to correct it. But you do go overboard to the extent of letting things affect your health.
Mama: How do I make you laugh?
Daughter: When your lips start quivering and you seem ready to cry while watching vidaai scenes in a movie or TV serial. I found it funny even as a child and wondered how you failed to see that it was not for real.
Son: mmmmmmmmmm.I think I'll say 'me too.'
Mama:What do you think I was like as a child?
Daughter: From what patti said you were a bookworm and very careless with your things. But daddy's company seems to have sobered you.
Son: I can't even imagine you as a child. But from what patti says you seemed to have been the boringly good kid, listening to mamma and generally being obedient. Thank God for us children who made life spicy and interesting for you.
Me:I didn't know that being good could be boring.
Mama: How old am I?
Daughter: You are now a grandmom to 4 g'kids but getting younger by the day.
Son : My soon to retire mother, why ask leading questions? If you expect me to say that you are young at heart and stuff like that..........I think I am sleepy and need to go to bed. (yaaaaaawns!)I think I'll make up for that by saying that you are ageing gracefully. Happy??
Me: Loved your responses.Reminded of the time when you were here in Jamshedpur.
Mama: How tall am I?
Daughter: All of us could see the top of your head from time immemorial.
Son : As tall as I want my mother to ever be.
Mama: What is my favourite thing to do?
Son:Your afternoon sleep with all three children made to forcibly lie down whether they wanted to sleep or not.
Daughter:Discussing issues that affect mankind in general.
Me: My college timing has changed and so no more afternoon naps except on Sundays and holidays.
Mama: What do I do when you’re not around?
Son:Playing computer games I suppose.
Daughter:Listening to carnatic music and blogging perhaps.
Me:Missing my kids, you silly children!
Mama: If I become famous, what will it be for?
Son: For being the mother of excellent children. The day is not far ma....Just wait.
Daughter: For your heartfelt concern for those around you.
Mama: What am I really good at?
Son:You seem to handle situations that drive you crazy very well. And you make excellent rasam.
Daughter:You balance home and job pretty well tho' I don't remember you doing anything really fast. I remember you starting after us and overtaking us on the road in your moped. Daddy was always a safe driver but you loved to speed up.
Mama: What am I not really good at?
Son:Cooking an elaborate meal. I don't think you care too much about spending hours together in the kitchen.
Daughter: At defending your children. You always wanted to hear the other side of the story instead of believing our version right away.
Mama: What is my job?
Son:Being our mother.What else, eh?
Daughter:To worry about daddy as if he were a 4 year old.You've never let him grow.
Me: I did not stop his growth. He preferred it that way. It suited him.
Mama: What is my favourite food?
Son:Spicy south Indian dishes like 'vattal kuzhambu and seppangizhangu roast'.
Daughter:Junk food like pani puri and samosas. We know it ma..ha,ha.
Me: I've given it all up now.
Mama: What makes you proud of me?
Son:You learnt to drive a car at the age of 54. Wow, I am impressed.
Daughter: You pursued your studies after a gap of 15 years. I remember the hard work you put in.
Mama: What makes me proud of you?
Son:Proud of me? That's good news.
Daughter:didn't know you were proud of us. Why didn't you let us know?
Me: Naughty children. as if you didn't know.
Mama: What do you and I do together?
Son : Discuss socially relevant issues.
Daughter: '''''''''mmmmmmm' let me think..... Oh yes, you've made me help in the kitchen ever since I could. So how come you don't remember me helping you out????''''
Me: sorry my child. I wish I could undo all that and give you back your childhood.
Mama: How are we the same?
Son:I don't think we are the same and I am glad we aren't. Like poles repel you know!
Daughter:We both like junk food.
Me:Sonny boy, we share the same gene pool. How different can you be?
Mama: How are you and I different?
Son:I am a towering personality and you are a shortie!!
Daughter: I am better organized than you. You keep hunting for things all the time.
Me: True, very true.
Mama: What is one thing you wish you could change about me?
Daughter:I'd really want you to lose weight. It would be good for your health.
Son : Me too.
Me:I'll try harder but There seems to be little I can do about that.
Mama: What is something I always say to you?
Son: You say so many things. The list is long.
Daughter: I don't think you've kind of insisted on anything. So can't really say.
Me: A talkative person like me hasn't said much? Not very complimentary :-((.
Mama: What makes me happy?
Son: The quick retorts you get from me. But for me you would lose your mental sharpness.
Daughter: You are generally happy but you seem happiest in tackling adverse situations. Challenges seem to give you a high.
Me: so true:)
Mama: What makes me sad?
Son: Anyone whose sob story impresses you. God knows how many people find your shoulders suitable to cry on. Honestly, I've lost count.
Daughter:Treachery and your inability to correct it. But you do go overboard to the extent of letting things affect your health.
Mama: How do I make you laugh?
Daughter: When your lips start quivering and you seem ready to cry while watching vidaai scenes in a movie or TV serial. I found it funny even as a child and wondered how you failed to see that it was not for real.
Son: mmmmmmmmmm.I think I'll say 'me too.'
Mama:What do you think I was like as a child?
Daughter: From what patti said you were a bookworm and very careless with your things. But daddy's company seems to have sobered you.
Son: I can't even imagine you as a child. But from what patti says you seemed to have been the boringly good kid, listening to mamma and generally being obedient. Thank God for us children who made life spicy and interesting for you.
Me:I didn't know that being good could be boring.
Mama: How old am I?
Daughter: You are now a grandmom to 4 g'kids but getting younger by the day.
Son : My soon to retire mother, why ask leading questions? If you expect me to say that you are young at heart and stuff like that..........I think I am sleepy and need to go to bed. (yaaaaaawns!)I think I'll make up for that by saying that you are ageing gracefully. Happy??
Me: Loved your responses.Reminded of the time when you were here in Jamshedpur.
Mama: How tall am I?
Daughter: All of us could see the top of your head from time immemorial.
Son : As tall as I want my mother to ever be.
Mama: What is my favourite thing to do?
Son:Your afternoon sleep with all three children made to forcibly lie down whether they wanted to sleep or not.
Daughter:Discussing issues that affect mankind in general.
Me: My college timing has changed and so no more afternoon naps except on Sundays and holidays.
Mama: What do I do when you’re not around?
Son:Playing computer games I suppose.
Daughter:Listening to carnatic music and blogging perhaps.
Me:Missing my kids, you silly children!
Mama: If I become famous, what will it be for?
Son: For being the mother of excellent children. The day is not far ma....Just wait.
Daughter: For your heartfelt concern for those around you.
Mama: What am I really good at?
Son:You seem to handle situations that drive you crazy very well. And you make excellent rasam.
Daughter:You balance home and job pretty well tho' I don't remember you doing anything really fast. I remember you starting after us and overtaking us on the road in your moped. Daddy was always a safe driver but you loved to speed up.
Mama: What am I not really good at?
Son:Cooking an elaborate meal. I don't think you care too much about spending hours together in the kitchen.
Daughter: At defending your children. You always wanted to hear the other side of the story instead of believing our version right away.
Mama: What is my job?
Son:Being our mother.What else, eh?
Daughter:To worry about daddy as if he were a 4 year old.You've never let him grow.
Me: I did not stop his growth. He preferred it that way. It suited him.
Mama: What is my favourite food?
Son:Spicy south Indian dishes like 'vattal kuzhambu and seppangizhangu roast'.
Daughter:Junk food like pani puri and samosas. We know it ma..ha,ha.
Me: I've given it all up now.
Mama: What makes you proud of me?
Son:You learnt to drive a car at the age of 54. Wow, I am impressed.
Daughter: You pursued your studies after a gap of 15 years. I remember the hard work you put in.
Mama: What makes me proud of you?
Son:Proud of me? That's good news.
Daughter:didn't know you were proud of us. Why didn't you let us know?
Me: Naughty children. as if you didn't know.
Mama: What do you and I do together?
Son : Discuss socially relevant issues.
Daughter: '''''''''mmmmmmm' let me think..... Oh yes, you've made me help in the kitchen ever since I could. So how come you don't remember me helping you out????''''
Me: sorry my child. I wish I could undo all that and give you back your childhood.
Mama: How are we the same?
Son:I don't think we are the same and I am glad we aren't. Like poles repel you know!
Daughter:We both like junk food.
Me:Sonny boy, we share the same gene pool. How different can you be?
Mama: How are you and I different?
Son:I am a towering personality and you are a shortie!!
Daughter: I am better organized than you. You keep hunting for things all the time.
Me: True, very true.
Mama: What is one thing you wish you could change about me?
Daughter:I'd really want you to lose weight. It would be good for your health.
Son : Me too.
Me:I'll try harder but There seems to be little I can do about that.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Down the memory lane-2
Let me begin with wishes for a very happy Navarathri and Eid to all of you. Festivities being part of the Indian scene getting in and out of shops has been a tiring experience. Not that I am a great shopper but getting a hair band for my scanty hair took me nearly half an hour what with enthusiastic teenaged girls crowding the ladies corner picking out make up kits and accessories to deck themselves for the pujas. I found myself sorely missing my grand daughters who have just begun to understand what it means to own bangles and stuff. That reminds me. I happened to look at a photograph taken soon after I finished my 11th standard boards. I could hardly recognize the teenager looking back at me. She had worn danglers (Jhumkas) and a ‘mattal’ to support ear rings that would pass off for mini plates and a vertical line instead of the round bindi I normally sport these days. I really wonder if I was really that crazy and if I was indeed so when did my teenage enthusiasm die? Be that as it may Navarathri is the time when girls are given special treatment. For my part I did my bit for the girls mentioned in my previous post and escorted a handicapped friend Prema to visit a friend of hers whose husband is recuperating after a mild stroke that had him hospitalized for a week or so. And again the visit took me back to the days when I had just arrived at Jamshedpur and we all lived in the same locality. Prema’s family has done for me that which I need several more births to ever repay.
My mother in law was seriously ill and bed ridden. She was forbidden the intake of more than 5 gms of salt per day and her kidneys were failing. Being diabetic she would be constantly hungry and with 2 small children I’d be at wits end unable to cope with her demands for spicy (forbidden) food. Prema’s mother was a friend of my mother in law and the dear lady would say that since she cooked early for her husband who left for work at 8 in the morning I could come over to her place anytime to pick up stuff for my mother in law. I’d sometimes knock their door at 6.30 in the morning and come back with steaming hot food.
“V was not always like this” she’d say referring to my MIL. “It is her illness that is making her act strange. You think she’d eat all of it? She’ll probably just taste a bit of it for a change and refuse the rest. Don’t worry about anything. You can come over anytime.”
To her credit I must add that she never discussed all this with anyone nor did her children, Prema included, question the reason behind my early morning visits. In fact Prema doesn’t even remember any of it now. But I have not forgotten the favor. It was like having my mother close by. My mother in law was also completely at ease about my contact with the family. She knew that T mami (Prema’s mother) would never set me against her. There were times when I’d have a complaint or two against my MIL. Her advice would be the same.
“Don’t bother about her outbursts. She’ll cool down by the time you go back. Do you think she’d have spared P (my SIL)? She is one person who is the same within and without. You’ll soon understand.”
True, my MIL was like a pressure cooker releasing steam from time to time. One had to understand the soft interior behind the tough exterior and T mami helped me see it.
I don’t know why I am reminded of my younger days so much these days. I lost a dear cousin to cancer. She was younger to me by a year and the first leaf to fall from the branch that sprung from my mother’s side of the family tree. She is mourned among others by her 82 year old mother. She was in great pain and has perhaps found liberation in death. We shared a childhood together spending our vacations in Gobi at my grandfather’s place. Her mother was an inspiration to me with a balanced temperament and uncomplaining nature. Those were days when parents generally let children run wild during vacations – no special treatment or attention. Anyone who was free would feed the children and one would fall asleep on mats spread out in a common hall. I wonder why the current generation of young mothers are so protective about their children.
My child won’t eat this or that……….
My son is an angel he’d never start a quarrel…….
My son won’t get sleep unless the AC is on……..
When we were young and up to mischief, anyone including the servant could scold us and our mothers would go about their work as if nothing had happened. They interfered only if there was a danger of children hurting themselves during a quarrel and the maximum punishment inflicted would be to withdraw the culprit from the scene. Never mind who started the quarrel. But we were happy as long as we got to enjoy ourselves.
Is this over protective attitude due to the fact that we have smaller families and more time in hand, thanks to modern gadgets? Or is the affordability in terms of money and means having a negative impact on inter personal relationships? Does one feel the necessity to flaunt one’s status in life even to one’s own parents and siblings? I am only generalizing but there seems to a subtle change taking place in society and the next generation of children may perhaps tend to be more self centered and uncaring and this will not be good in a society where the divide between the rich and poor is increasing by the day.
To conclude, I may add that almost all festivals are celebrated to denote the triumph of good over evil. Different reasons are quoted for celebrating Navarathri. Devi Mahatmiyam says that even with the combined strength of all the gods and demi gods, it took a long drawn war before Shakthi won the battle against Mahishasur, a demon. Ram led a battle against Ravan and ultimately defeated him. Demons are vanquished and justice prevails is the message. Even Gods could not accomplish it in a day. Corruption, terrorism, caste differentiation, communalism, avarice, dowry menace, female feticide and unhealthy competition are some of the demons that damage our social structure. We may not be able to change the world. Why not begin with changing ourselves and inculcate the value of community life in our children? They need to be sensitized by parents and no time is better than the present time. Let us begin right away. Happy Navarathri!
My mother in law was seriously ill and bed ridden. She was forbidden the intake of more than 5 gms of salt per day and her kidneys were failing. Being diabetic she would be constantly hungry and with 2 small children I’d be at wits end unable to cope with her demands for spicy (forbidden) food. Prema’s mother was a friend of my mother in law and the dear lady would say that since she cooked early for her husband who left for work at 8 in the morning I could come over to her place anytime to pick up stuff for my mother in law. I’d sometimes knock their door at 6.30 in the morning and come back with steaming hot food.
“V was not always like this” she’d say referring to my MIL. “It is her illness that is making her act strange. You think she’d eat all of it? She’ll probably just taste a bit of it for a change and refuse the rest. Don’t worry about anything. You can come over anytime.”
To her credit I must add that she never discussed all this with anyone nor did her children, Prema included, question the reason behind my early morning visits. In fact Prema doesn’t even remember any of it now. But I have not forgotten the favor. It was like having my mother close by. My mother in law was also completely at ease about my contact with the family. She knew that T mami (Prema’s mother) would never set me against her. There were times when I’d have a complaint or two against my MIL. Her advice would be the same.
“Don’t bother about her outbursts. She’ll cool down by the time you go back. Do you think she’d have spared P (my SIL)? She is one person who is the same within and without. You’ll soon understand.”
True, my MIL was like a pressure cooker releasing steam from time to time. One had to understand the soft interior behind the tough exterior and T mami helped me see it.
I don’t know why I am reminded of my younger days so much these days. I lost a dear cousin to cancer. She was younger to me by a year and the first leaf to fall from the branch that sprung from my mother’s side of the family tree. She is mourned among others by her 82 year old mother. She was in great pain and has perhaps found liberation in death. We shared a childhood together spending our vacations in Gobi at my grandfather’s place. Her mother was an inspiration to me with a balanced temperament and uncomplaining nature. Those were days when parents generally let children run wild during vacations – no special treatment or attention. Anyone who was free would feed the children and one would fall asleep on mats spread out in a common hall. I wonder why the current generation of young mothers are so protective about their children.
My child won’t eat this or that……….
My son is an angel he’d never start a quarrel…….
My son won’t get sleep unless the AC is on……..
When we were young and up to mischief, anyone including the servant could scold us and our mothers would go about their work as if nothing had happened. They interfered only if there was a danger of children hurting themselves during a quarrel and the maximum punishment inflicted would be to withdraw the culprit from the scene. Never mind who started the quarrel. But we were happy as long as we got to enjoy ourselves.
Is this over protective attitude due to the fact that we have smaller families and more time in hand, thanks to modern gadgets? Or is the affordability in terms of money and means having a negative impact on inter personal relationships? Does one feel the necessity to flaunt one’s status in life even to one’s own parents and siblings? I am only generalizing but there seems to a subtle change taking place in society and the next generation of children may perhaps tend to be more self centered and uncaring and this will not be good in a society where the divide between the rich and poor is increasing by the day.
To conclude, I may add that almost all festivals are celebrated to denote the triumph of good over evil. Different reasons are quoted for celebrating Navarathri. Devi Mahatmiyam says that even with the combined strength of all the gods and demi gods, it took a long drawn war before Shakthi won the battle against Mahishasur, a demon. Ram led a battle against Ravan and ultimately defeated him. Demons are vanquished and justice prevails is the message. Even Gods could not accomplish it in a day. Corruption, terrorism, caste differentiation, communalism, avarice, dowry menace, female feticide and unhealthy competition are some of the demons that damage our social structure. We may not be able to change the world. Why not begin with changing ourselves and inculcate the value of community life in our children? They need to be sensitized by parents and no time is better than the present time. Let us begin right away. Happy Navarathri!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
dreams and more dreams.
Let me begin by wishing all of you a very happy festival season. A Happy Navarathri, Id-ul-fitr and in general a happy, pleasant time to all of you. I started writing something serious but retained it as a draft because I felt that this was not the time for it. Vacations have begun and we plan a trip to Shiridi, Mumbai and Shringeri. I hear that the Malabar coast is luxuriant after the rains and I've never been to Shringeri.
In this post I am generally going to share with you some eerie dreams I had. Sue had long back tagged me asking me to write about my dreams. Being the boring teacher that I am, I wrote out a long list of figurative dreams of how I wanted terrorism to be wiped out and other similar stuff befitting my age. She then told me that she meant real dreams and I had promised that I'd share them later so here I go.
Dream no.1 I was around 13 years of age and it was a Saturday morning. I was studying in a residential school and we were allowed an extra hour of sleep on saturdays and Sundays. I woke up sweating profusely. I had a dream that my dad was in hospital and he was on some life support system. There were all kinds of tubes and stuff and he was all skin and bones. I recognize him only by his voice. We, in the boarding school believed that Friday night's dreams come true but if it was a bad dream its effect could be neutalized if shared. I quickly woke my friends up and shared my dream. Unfortunately the dream did come true and in the months that followed the same dream recurred a few more times and 4 months later when I visited my father in hospital I was shocked to see everything exactly as it was in my dream. My dad, a 175 pounder had been reduced to a skeleton and some 6 months later he died. I had never seen the interior if a hospital room before so I cannot explain how I got such a vivid picture of the hospital scene.
Dreams no.2 Just before my marriage I had a dream that my dad had come with a suitcase and said that he planned to spend sometime with us. He continued to come in my dreams prior to my younger sister's and older brother's weddings. My younger brothers got married some 12 years after our weddings. I almost expected him to come in my dreams when the two younger brothers got married. But no, he didn't.
Dream no. 3. This again involves my dad. I had, by then, almost stopped expecting him to visit me in my dreams. It was more that 33 years since he passed away. I was advised bed rest following high blood pressure. My dad took me in my dream to Patna for an interview. He leaves me at the gate of the Secretariat and vanishes much to my annoyance. My name is called out and I try to go in when a little girl asks me if I was PR and when I answer in the affirmative she asks me to go back saying that I was not called. I insist saying that I had indeed been called but she does not let me in.
I wonder what dreams are? I've had my mother in law coming in my dreams soon after her death. My father in law's blood urea count shot up before his death and he developed blisters all over his body due to that. A few days after his death I dreamt that he was looking good and was telling a friend of his that he was fine and all his blisters had healed. But for some reason my mother has never comes in my dreams. I think it is because my mother lived to see us well settled while my father didn't. If there is something called soul then my father's soul perhaps wanted to be part of any celebration in the family.
I have regular dreams but most of the time I cannot remember anything when I wake up. But these are a few that I can remember and they usually involve my dead relatives. I don't read too much into my dreams nor do I look for interpretations. But I do offer a silent prayer asking God to take care of things.
In this post I am generally going to share with you some eerie dreams I had. Sue had long back tagged me asking me to write about my dreams. Being the boring teacher that I am, I wrote out a long list of figurative dreams of how I wanted terrorism to be wiped out and other similar stuff befitting my age. She then told me that she meant real dreams and I had promised that I'd share them later so here I go.
Dream no.1 I was around 13 years of age and it was a Saturday morning. I was studying in a residential school and we were allowed an extra hour of sleep on saturdays and Sundays. I woke up sweating profusely. I had a dream that my dad was in hospital and he was on some life support system. There were all kinds of tubes and stuff and he was all skin and bones. I recognize him only by his voice. We, in the boarding school believed that Friday night's dreams come true but if it was a bad dream its effect could be neutalized if shared. I quickly woke my friends up and shared my dream. Unfortunately the dream did come true and in the months that followed the same dream recurred a few more times and 4 months later when I visited my father in hospital I was shocked to see everything exactly as it was in my dream. My dad, a 175 pounder had been reduced to a skeleton and some 6 months later he died. I had never seen the interior if a hospital room before so I cannot explain how I got such a vivid picture of the hospital scene.
Dreams no.2 Just before my marriage I had a dream that my dad had come with a suitcase and said that he planned to spend sometime with us. He continued to come in my dreams prior to my younger sister's and older brother's weddings. My younger brothers got married some 12 years after our weddings. I almost expected him to come in my dreams when the two younger brothers got married. But no, he didn't.
Dream no. 3. This again involves my dad. I had, by then, almost stopped expecting him to visit me in my dreams. It was more that 33 years since he passed away. I was advised bed rest following high blood pressure. My dad took me in my dream to Patna for an interview. He leaves me at the gate of the Secretariat and vanishes much to my annoyance. My name is called out and I try to go in when a little girl asks me if I was PR and when I answer in the affirmative she asks me to go back saying that I was not called. I insist saying that I had indeed been called but she does not let me in.
I wonder what dreams are? I've had my mother in law coming in my dreams soon after her death. My father in law's blood urea count shot up before his death and he developed blisters all over his body due to that. A few days after his death I dreamt that he was looking good and was telling a friend of his that he was fine and all his blisters had healed. But for some reason my mother has never comes in my dreams. I think it is because my mother lived to see us well settled while my father didn't. If there is something called soul then my father's soul perhaps wanted to be part of any celebration in the family.
I have regular dreams but most of the time I cannot remember anything when I wake up. But these are a few that I can remember and they usually involve my dead relatives. I don't read too much into my dreams nor do I look for interpretations. But I do offer a silent prayer asking God to take care of things.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
All is not lost
I had lamented in my last post the plight of education and the dearth of good teachers to train young minds. True, the teaching profession has lost its charm thanks to their underpaid and over worked condition. However all is not lost. The pictures posted above indicate the effort of Mrs. Anjali Bose, a seventy three year old social worker who has taken it on herself to do her bit for the girl child in Jharkhand. Her school is called 'setu vidyalaya' or 'bridge school'. The Jharkhand government identified her organization and gave her the job of coaching 50 girls between the age of 9 and 14 and raise their level of understanding to that of Grade 6 in a regular school identified by the government. Their education upto the 12th grade would then be the responsibility of the state government. These girls had to be school drop outs as certified by the headman of their village. The school was to be a residential one and the time granted to them was 9 months. She was supposed to appoint a teacher, an assistant teacher and a cook.
Mrs. Anjali Bose was already running a sewing class in her house in the outskirts of Jamshedpur. She converted it to a residential school and within 4 months the change undergone by these girls was visible. Today at least 30 of these students expect to be absorbed in the school marked out for them. They take their exams in February 2010.
The government carries out periodic checks and the grant is given out in part after ensuring that the previous amount has been properly utilized. The cause for cheer mainly lies in the fact that palms were not greased to obtain it nor does she plan to press for renewal of the project. Should the authorities consider her competent renewal should automatically follow is her stand.
It is not as if it was a cake walk all the way. Parents were wary and suspicious of her intentions. More than other things parents from a rural background had to be convinced about the importance of educating the girl child. A truly service minded teacher had to be appointed, who would agree not only work for the pittance paid to her but also double up as honorary store keeper cum warden. Many of the girls were illiterate and had to be taught from scratch. The government allowance covered only the children's board and lodge. The 5 staff members ie 2 teachers, a cook, a gatekeeper and maid who kept a round the clock vigilance on these young girls were perhaps expected to live on fresh air and water. Extra bathrooms had to be built, bed and bed linen had to be provided, at least 2 sets of uniforms had to be stitched and a buffer amount kept ready to counter any delay in payment by the government. Then there was always a chance of the girls falling ill so that too had to be taken care of.
Luckily, all these issues have been addressed. The teacher who works for them is sincere and efficient. She has her own set of problems but she still manages to teach these children some singing and gets involved in their physical training and games too. They are given simple chores to do and a healthy foundation to community living is being imbibed by these children albeit unconsciously.
The photographs above were taken on Independance day and in the first photograph Anjalidi can be seen addressing the gathering. This is an example of good work done against all odds and the dearth of good teachers that society faces is not because they are underpaid but rather because the importance of the profession has been conveniently forgotten. But I still insist that all is not lost.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Happy teacher's Day
I am a little late with my teacher's day post the reason being my dilemma as to whether the celebration of teacher's day is required or justified any more. Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of respect for teachers since they train young impressionable minds. But teaching is not a preferred career these days. When I was growing up teaching was considered as perhaps the safest option for working women. I know of a friend whose mother would allow her to leave town and work in another place some 250 miles away only on condition that she worked in an all girl's school with a teacher's hostel attached. The rules for teachers in this school were only slightly more lenient when compared to students. If students were allowed a weekly outing and had to return by 6 in the evening teachers could go out daily if they wished but had to leave whatever they were doing and return by 7 in the evvening. Teachers could go for a matinee show on Sundays while an occasional film was screened for students in the school auditorium. Yet these teachers gave their best services and students loved and respected them.
My own brothers were schooled in a primary school where there were benches only for the seniormost class ie the 5th standard. The rest would sit on wooden planks with all sections of a particular class being held in the same hall. Their first standard teacher was a widow who had taken a 2 year diploma course in teaching after finishing her matriculation. When my brother joined school he cried so much that I sat through the class for a whole week. I was myself in standard 10 and studying in an expensive boarding school. My father had just passed away and the family could no longer afford costly education for my younger siblings. The week I spent in a corner of the class was an eye opener. They were being taught by a born teacher who inculcated a love for learning in them. Today my brothers are doing well in life with one of them having graduated from IIM, Bangalore in the mid 80's and another a product of Anna University, Chennai. The headmaster, a simple unassuming man came home to meet my mother on Gandhi Jayanthi Day along with my brother who had been awarded the first prize in an inter school speech competition. He was perhaps in Standard 2 or 3. My mother treated him to some salted buttermilk. He recognized some potential in the boy and predicted a great future for him. This man was given the President's award for best teachers on Republic day. Those were days when merit was recognized and lobbying was unheard of. A good school may not have tall multistoreyed buildings but they certainly need the right person at the top. Unfortunately I forget the name of this great man but he certainly led by example and motivated the teachers under him to do their best.
Fast forward by 40 years. I was approached by a saleswoman who frequents our apartment complex to help her daughter with English. The girl was in standard 9 and studied in a government run Hindi medium school. I asked her to bring her English text and saw that she had a few good pieces in her book. Poems by Shelly and Wordsworth, an abridged version of part of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice etc. I was delighted. I had studied 'The Merchant of Venice' in the original for my 11th Boards and I welcomed the idea of reading Portia's piece on 'The quality of mercy..........'. But unfortunately I was not prepared for what I got. That the girl could not read a line from her text book was bad enough but she could not write the full 26 letters of alphabet or frame simple sentences using 4 to six words. How she managed to land in standard 9 was a mystery. I asked her to write a paragraph on her school in Hindi. She barely manged to write something but her writing was bad and spellings worse. What about science I wondered. She had managed to scrape through her exams. The teacher had written out a few answers that she had memorised and managed to pass. I wondered if this was the state of affairs in North India and if it was always so. After all my brothers and many others like them had studied in vernacular medium schools and were very successful in life.
"It was never like this" said my colleague and my mentor and Ph.D guide Dr. AKP endorsed her view.
"Your brothers sat on wooden planks but I had to carry my own mat to school" he said. "I had to cross a river on the way and very often the flimsy bridge made of bamboo poles would sway during cyclonic weather and yet we braved adverse weather conditions to attend school.
"Sir, government school teachers are being paid well what are they upto instead of teaching their students?" I asked.
"One can hardly blame them." said my guide. They are given all kinds of odd jobs. They are involved with counting cattle and livestock, they participate in polio eradication drives and carry out door to door surveys to identify below poverty line families that qualify for BPL ration cards. Census counts, distribution and rectification of erroneous voter identity cards or any work that the government wants them to do is gladly taken up by government school teachers. Our teachers only had to teach but these people have to do everything but teach. Does the DEO have the moral right to ask them why their students cannot write a simple sentence or understand basic science or Indian history for that matter?"
I seemed to understand something though not everything. We are a densely populated country and millions of young men and women are unemployed. Why cannot the government appoint them on adhoc basis to do such work and leave teachers to do the job assigned to them at the time of their appointment? If this is the way we treat our teachers do we have the right to celebrate teacher's day?
However I still admire those that take up the profession and struggle to do their best against all odds. It is these men and women who still allow us to hope that all is not lost.
Happy teacher's day to all teachers!!
My own brothers were schooled in a primary school where there were benches only for the seniormost class ie the 5th standard. The rest would sit on wooden planks with all sections of a particular class being held in the same hall. Their first standard teacher was a widow who had taken a 2 year diploma course in teaching after finishing her matriculation. When my brother joined school he cried so much that I sat through the class for a whole week. I was myself in standard 10 and studying in an expensive boarding school. My father had just passed away and the family could no longer afford costly education for my younger siblings. The week I spent in a corner of the class was an eye opener. They were being taught by a born teacher who inculcated a love for learning in them. Today my brothers are doing well in life with one of them having graduated from IIM, Bangalore in the mid 80's and another a product of Anna University, Chennai. The headmaster, a simple unassuming man came home to meet my mother on Gandhi Jayanthi Day along with my brother who had been awarded the first prize in an inter school speech competition. He was perhaps in Standard 2 or 3. My mother treated him to some salted buttermilk. He recognized some potential in the boy and predicted a great future for him. This man was given the President's award for best teachers on Republic day. Those were days when merit was recognized and lobbying was unheard of. A good school may not have tall multistoreyed buildings but they certainly need the right person at the top. Unfortunately I forget the name of this great man but he certainly led by example and motivated the teachers under him to do their best.
Fast forward by 40 years. I was approached by a saleswoman who frequents our apartment complex to help her daughter with English. The girl was in standard 9 and studied in a government run Hindi medium school. I asked her to bring her English text and saw that she had a few good pieces in her book. Poems by Shelly and Wordsworth, an abridged version of part of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice etc. I was delighted. I had studied 'The Merchant of Venice' in the original for my 11th Boards and I welcomed the idea of reading Portia's piece on 'The quality of mercy..........'. But unfortunately I was not prepared for what I got. That the girl could not read a line from her text book was bad enough but she could not write the full 26 letters of alphabet or frame simple sentences using 4 to six words. How she managed to land in standard 9 was a mystery. I asked her to write a paragraph on her school in Hindi. She barely manged to write something but her writing was bad and spellings worse. What about science I wondered. She had managed to scrape through her exams. The teacher had written out a few answers that she had memorised and managed to pass. I wondered if this was the state of affairs in North India and if it was always so. After all my brothers and many others like them had studied in vernacular medium schools and were very successful in life.
"It was never like this" said my colleague and my mentor and Ph.D guide Dr. AKP endorsed her view.
"Your brothers sat on wooden planks but I had to carry my own mat to school" he said. "I had to cross a river on the way and very often the flimsy bridge made of bamboo poles would sway during cyclonic weather and yet we braved adverse weather conditions to attend school.
"Sir, government school teachers are being paid well what are they upto instead of teaching their students?" I asked.
"One can hardly blame them." said my guide. They are given all kinds of odd jobs. They are involved with counting cattle and livestock, they participate in polio eradication drives and carry out door to door surveys to identify below poverty line families that qualify for BPL ration cards. Census counts, distribution and rectification of erroneous voter identity cards or any work that the government wants them to do is gladly taken up by government school teachers. Our teachers only had to teach but these people have to do everything but teach. Does the DEO have the moral right to ask them why their students cannot write a simple sentence or understand basic science or Indian history for that matter?"
I seemed to understand something though not everything. We are a densely populated country and millions of young men and women are unemployed. Why cannot the government appoint them on adhoc basis to do such work and leave teachers to do the job assigned to them at the time of their appointment? If this is the way we treat our teachers do we have the right to celebrate teacher's day?
However I still admire those that take up the profession and struggle to do their best against all odds. It is these men and women who still allow us to hope that all is not lost.
Happy teacher's day to all teachers!!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
On being a mother in law.
Young girls aspiring to marry a TDH guy of your choice are advised to stay away from this post. You may read it at the risk of being subjected to some leg pulling exercise from me so be warned. No malice intended. Just some harmless fun at your expense.
There was a time some 30 years back when the boys family decided on the qualities possessed by their would be daughter in law. My mother in law expected me to be able to cook for 50 people if the situation so demanded. "Ellunna ennaiya nikkanum". This roughly translates as " One should be ready with sesame oil when the word sesame is uttered." I did not fit the bill and she had to manage with a DIL who could barely manage to cook for 5 persons. Forget the stipulated 50. But we got on pretty well. She'd teach me to stand up for my rights as a woman so what if it was my husband who was acting difficult. As for my father in law - the poor man could not even say that there was less salt in rasam or something as simple as that. My mother in law would take up for me like a mother hen and ask him to get used to eating less salt. "It is good for your health" she'd announce. Those were days that I always cherish.
Fast forward by 36 years. I hear that it is the girls who set conditions for marriage to a guy. Like some girl who said that she wanted her MIL to be able to speak good English and I've started worrying. 'Will my english be good enough for my DIL?' I wonder. Don't go by what I write. Years and years of life spent in Bihar/Jharkhand and that too in a town like Jamshedpur I cannot speak a complete sentence in any one language. Being close to Kolkata our Hindi is Bengali mixed and unique to our town. Tamil being my mother tongue I tend to add a few words of Tamil when I speak to my children. So it is Hinglish/Benglish/Taminglish all in one. Like when my daughter calls I may say something like
"Sollumma, kaisi ho? yeh week end me kya ki? Teri mamiyar kaisey manage kar rahi hai?"
This means " Tell me, how do you do? What did you do this week end? How is your mother in law managing?"
The ease with which I blend the three languages would baffle any DIL who did not know all of them and if she expected me to speak any one language I'd have a lot of unlearning to do. I think I should start practising. Who knows which language she'd want me to talk to her. Let me at least be fluent in the three that I claim to know.
My DIL may herself be a Hinglish speaking girl or even otherwise she may not be a talkative person so the language issue may get automatically resolved. I may only have to say 'yes', 'No' and okay. But she may have other conditions. What if she is a towering personality and my less than 5 feet of height puts her off? I don't blame her. If she wants to see my face I'd have to lift it up or else she'd only see the top of my head. Constantly lifting up my head would aggravate my spondilytis and my shoulders would take turns to freeze. I'd trouble her to open doors and pick out stuff from shelves and the poor girl would also have to close doors and put back stuff. You see, even with the best intentions I can be a pain and it is only my husband who can pamper me 'cos he has no other option.
I am crazy about my cross word and sudoku. I read the head lines and check out university news and get started with my crossword. Not the cryptic one - just the quick one. I know of a 90 year old greatgrandpa who'd fight with his 70 year old son for the days newspaper. They'd buy 'The Hindu', Deccan Chronicle as well as Economic Times all in duplicate. Both would want all three papers for themselves. A fold here or a crease there would not be tolerated. It was the grandson who solved the problem by ordering two sets of all three newpapers. So, should my DIL want a crisp new newspaper to read I think I'll do the same. One set for her and another for me. As of now my husband waits for me to be done with my crossword before he even casts an eye or lays a hand on it. No, don't start imagining that he's an absolute angel. He is not. This is one area in which he is not in competition with me.
When I am pensive I tend to put a hand on my hip. My daughter keeps pulling it off. She says it makes me look formidable. I'd often wonder why I shouldn't look formidable? But now I feel that my DIL like my daughter would also object to a MIL with hands on her hips. She may prefer one with fingers on the lips. I think I'll try to get rid of the habit.
So you see our generation of mothers and mothers in law are rather accomodative. One has to just specify and we'd adapt. I invite my readers to let me know if there are any more specifications to qualify for the degree of a MIL.
There was a time some 30 years back when the boys family decided on the qualities possessed by their would be daughter in law. My mother in law expected me to be able to cook for 50 people if the situation so demanded. "Ellunna ennaiya nikkanum". This roughly translates as " One should be ready with sesame oil when the word sesame is uttered." I did not fit the bill and she had to manage with a DIL who could barely manage to cook for 5 persons. Forget the stipulated 50. But we got on pretty well. She'd teach me to stand up for my rights as a woman so what if it was my husband who was acting difficult. As for my father in law - the poor man could not even say that there was less salt in rasam or something as simple as that. My mother in law would take up for me like a mother hen and ask him to get used to eating less salt. "It is good for your health" she'd announce. Those were days that I always cherish.
Fast forward by 36 years. I hear that it is the girls who set conditions for marriage to a guy. Like some girl who said that she wanted her MIL to be able to speak good English and I've started worrying. 'Will my english be good enough for my DIL?' I wonder. Don't go by what I write. Years and years of life spent in Bihar/Jharkhand and that too in a town like Jamshedpur I cannot speak a complete sentence in any one language. Being close to Kolkata our Hindi is Bengali mixed and unique to our town. Tamil being my mother tongue I tend to add a few words of Tamil when I speak to my children. So it is Hinglish/Benglish/Taminglish all in one. Like when my daughter calls I may say something like
"Sollumma, kaisi ho? yeh week end me kya ki? Teri mamiyar kaisey manage kar rahi hai?"
This means " Tell me, how do you do? What did you do this week end? How is your mother in law managing?"
The ease with which I blend the three languages would baffle any DIL who did not know all of them and if she expected me to speak any one language I'd have a lot of unlearning to do. I think I should start practising. Who knows which language she'd want me to talk to her. Let me at least be fluent in the three that I claim to know.
My DIL may herself be a Hinglish speaking girl or even otherwise she may not be a talkative person so the language issue may get automatically resolved. I may only have to say 'yes', 'No' and okay. But she may have other conditions. What if she is a towering personality and my less than 5 feet of height puts her off? I don't blame her. If she wants to see my face I'd have to lift it up or else she'd only see the top of my head. Constantly lifting up my head would aggravate my spondilytis and my shoulders would take turns to freeze. I'd trouble her to open doors and pick out stuff from shelves and the poor girl would also have to close doors and put back stuff. You see, even with the best intentions I can be a pain and it is only my husband who can pamper me 'cos he has no other option.
I am crazy about my cross word and sudoku. I read the head lines and check out university news and get started with my crossword. Not the cryptic one - just the quick one. I know of a 90 year old greatgrandpa who'd fight with his 70 year old son for the days newspaper. They'd buy 'The Hindu', Deccan Chronicle as well as Economic Times all in duplicate. Both would want all three papers for themselves. A fold here or a crease there would not be tolerated. It was the grandson who solved the problem by ordering two sets of all three newpapers. So, should my DIL want a crisp new newspaper to read I think I'll do the same. One set for her and another for me. As of now my husband waits for me to be done with my crossword before he even casts an eye or lays a hand on it. No, don't start imagining that he's an absolute angel. He is not. This is one area in which he is not in competition with me.
When I am pensive I tend to put a hand on my hip. My daughter keeps pulling it off. She says it makes me look formidable. I'd often wonder why I shouldn't look formidable? But now I feel that my DIL like my daughter would also object to a MIL with hands on her hips. She may prefer one with fingers on the lips. I think I'll try to get rid of the habit.
So you see our generation of mothers and mothers in law are rather accomodative. One has to just specify and we'd adapt. I invite my readers to let me know if there are any more specifications to qualify for the degree of a MIL.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Heartfelt-2
Sometime back I read an article in 'Prabhat Khabar' discussing the pathetic condition of colleges and universities in Jharkhand/Bihar. The topic was in fact covered in a series of 5 to 6 articles and were authored by a professor from IIT, Madras.He, who had been a product of schools and colleges in Bihar knew what he was talking about. He laments that the colleges in the region are just shadows of what they were when he was a student. He is ofcourse right.The college that my husband studied was one of the best in the state and students who were his batch mates have made it to prestigious universities abroad in times when parents hardly aspired to send their children abroad and most were happy to see them graduate in local colleges and take up jobs in and around the town where they were raised.
Truth is bitter and I found it difficult to swallow it. After all I am being paid by the tax payer's money and hope to draw a decent pension on retirement. But I needed to do some introspection and acknowledge how far and how much was I responsible for the situation and defend myself if possible. It really didn't require a professor from far off Chennai to tell us to our face that the functioning of colleges in our part of India is bad. It may be worse elsewhere but I am not accountable for all colleges and universities. I just want to find out through my analysis if there is still some hope and scope for our system to improve.
Anyone can come to our college at around 2.30 PM in the afternoon and find the campus deserted except for a handful of students who are either waiting for their company buses to ferry them back home or attending practical classes. The time table indicates that the college functions till 4.00 PM. Where have all the students gone one may wonder. They are either busy attending tuition classes/coaching classes or buying little trinklets at the local market a stone's throw away from the college. Teachers have to remain in college till 4 in the evening since they are being paid. Students pay a pittance as college fee. Their parents pay at least 10 times more as tuition fees in tutorials and coaching centres and one does not have to be a genius to understand where their priorities lie. Our Principal tried locking the gate one day. The press came, student union leaders came, there were frantic phone calls being made to the Principal. The students shouted slogans from within and the brothers joined them from outside. On the very day 2 programmes to celebrate the Science Month were going on and the students wanted to be let out rather than sit through these lectures. Not a single parent seemed to have questioned his/her ward. The general feeling is that classes are never held as per schedule in the college. How can classes be held in the absence of students? If anyone has an answer please let me know. Gates were finally opened and haven't been locked since then. No student union leader comes to advise his fellow students to attend classes regularly or to arrange for tuitions after college hours.
Was this always so?? No, it wasn't. When I first joined college we had students who came from their theory class discussing the topic taken up. They'd account for the number of ATP molecules formed in the course of a cycle of reactions in biochemistry or the bonding of atoms in a particular molecule and I'd have to ask them to stop their discussion and get on with their practical work. We still remember our old students. Arunima for the diagrams she made and Manisha for her perseverance and so many others who may not have been bright sparks but were keen to learn and made a sincere effort towards aquiring knowledge. This is what I find missing in my current batch of students. I had mentioned about a batch of students in an earlier post. In my department they were perhaps the last batch of dedicated students. Students wanting to study basic science have decreased in number. Another women's college in town offers Biotechnology and Environmemt and Water management as Honours courses. Students seem to find those courses more appealing. But a post graduate in Water management may be good for the industry but may not necessarily be a good Biology teacher in school. And not all of them are absorbed in industries. Some do take up teaching not having anything else to do. As a result the very foundation may be wobbly and it is these students that come to college and are unable to cope with the speed at which education is imparted in college. With coaching classes mushrooming all over town they prefer to go there rather than stay on in college. The college is reduced to a mere examination centre. They do not realize that tuitions can supplement or compliment class room coaching. They can never replace the teacher who draws figures on the board or explains the portion in detail.
It is the future of our children I worry about. The process of imparting and aquiring knowledge should be enjoyed to the core. Parental ambition sees to it that children handle the computer even before they learn to talk. Is it any wonder that we have robots instead of children and the curiosity of an entire generation is being stifled? A reputed preparatory/play school in town holds entrance tests for two year old kids and parents keep their fingers crossed for their ward's admission. It is a kind of prestige issue to have your child coached in the school.
I happened to visit the school attended by my grand daughter in Maryland, USA. The school charges no fees or may be a nominal amount. Parents don't go hunting for the most expensive scools. In fact the school authorized by your county is the only one you can send your child to. Children have an hour or two of systematic learning to do followed by an hour of any activity of the child's choice. The child can draw or paint, read a book or organise cutlery and crockery on a dining table. The child learns a lot when she/he is left to choose an activity of her/his interest. I also saw volunteers reading out stories to children in a local library and this was perhaps to help weak students and others who don't speak English at home to pick up language and grammar. In another day care I saw flower pots with children's name on it. Three year olds are encouraged to sow seeds and watch a seedling develop into a full grown plant. What a relaxing way to learn things. I really felt that our children were missing out on their childhood for no fault of theirs.
I may seem to have gone off the topic. No, not at all. I am coming to the point I wish to make. If one inculcated a love for learning in children and allowed them to do it at their own pace they may not peak before their time and will join college with their quest for knowledge in tact. As of now, we have a group that is so ambitious that they want short cuts to success and another group who are so weak that they lack even the will to try. The middle group to which most of us belong is perhaps missing. As a result no one wants to put their hearts into what they learn unless it translates into a five digit salary right from day one.
Sorry to sound pessimistic. But it is the future of India that is at stake. I've discussed only one aspect that bothers me. There are more angles that need to be explored and debated. I should consider the student's point of view and also accomodate the plight of parents who want the best for their wards. Somewhere in between the two, the role of politicians who want the masses to remain ignorant also needs to be included.
Truth is bitter and I found it difficult to swallow it. After all I am being paid by the tax payer's money and hope to draw a decent pension on retirement. But I needed to do some introspection and acknowledge how far and how much was I responsible for the situation and defend myself if possible. It really didn't require a professor from far off Chennai to tell us to our face that the functioning of colleges in our part of India is bad. It may be worse elsewhere but I am not accountable for all colleges and universities. I just want to find out through my analysis if there is still some hope and scope for our system to improve.
Anyone can come to our college at around 2.30 PM in the afternoon and find the campus deserted except for a handful of students who are either waiting for their company buses to ferry them back home or attending practical classes. The time table indicates that the college functions till 4.00 PM. Where have all the students gone one may wonder. They are either busy attending tuition classes/coaching classes or buying little trinklets at the local market a stone's throw away from the college. Teachers have to remain in college till 4 in the evening since they are being paid. Students pay a pittance as college fee. Their parents pay at least 10 times more as tuition fees in tutorials and coaching centres and one does not have to be a genius to understand where their priorities lie. Our Principal tried locking the gate one day. The press came, student union leaders came, there were frantic phone calls being made to the Principal. The students shouted slogans from within and the brothers joined them from outside. On the very day 2 programmes to celebrate the Science Month were going on and the students wanted to be let out rather than sit through these lectures. Not a single parent seemed to have questioned his/her ward. The general feeling is that classes are never held as per schedule in the college. How can classes be held in the absence of students? If anyone has an answer please let me know. Gates were finally opened and haven't been locked since then. No student union leader comes to advise his fellow students to attend classes regularly or to arrange for tuitions after college hours.
Was this always so?? No, it wasn't. When I first joined college we had students who came from their theory class discussing the topic taken up. They'd account for the number of ATP molecules formed in the course of a cycle of reactions in biochemistry or the bonding of atoms in a particular molecule and I'd have to ask them to stop their discussion and get on with their practical work. We still remember our old students. Arunima for the diagrams she made and Manisha for her perseverance and so many others who may not have been bright sparks but were keen to learn and made a sincere effort towards aquiring knowledge. This is what I find missing in my current batch of students. I had mentioned about a batch of students in an earlier post. In my department they were perhaps the last batch of dedicated students. Students wanting to study basic science have decreased in number. Another women's college in town offers Biotechnology and Environmemt and Water management as Honours courses. Students seem to find those courses more appealing. But a post graduate in Water management may be good for the industry but may not necessarily be a good Biology teacher in school. And not all of them are absorbed in industries. Some do take up teaching not having anything else to do. As a result the very foundation may be wobbly and it is these students that come to college and are unable to cope with the speed at which education is imparted in college. With coaching classes mushrooming all over town they prefer to go there rather than stay on in college. The college is reduced to a mere examination centre. They do not realize that tuitions can supplement or compliment class room coaching. They can never replace the teacher who draws figures on the board or explains the portion in detail.
It is the future of our children I worry about. The process of imparting and aquiring knowledge should be enjoyed to the core. Parental ambition sees to it that children handle the computer even before they learn to talk. Is it any wonder that we have robots instead of children and the curiosity of an entire generation is being stifled? A reputed preparatory/play school in town holds entrance tests for two year old kids and parents keep their fingers crossed for their ward's admission. It is a kind of prestige issue to have your child coached in the school.
I happened to visit the school attended by my grand daughter in Maryland, USA. The school charges no fees or may be a nominal amount. Parents don't go hunting for the most expensive scools. In fact the school authorized by your county is the only one you can send your child to. Children have an hour or two of systematic learning to do followed by an hour of any activity of the child's choice. The child can draw or paint, read a book or organise cutlery and crockery on a dining table. The child learns a lot when she/he is left to choose an activity of her/his interest. I also saw volunteers reading out stories to children in a local library and this was perhaps to help weak students and others who don't speak English at home to pick up language and grammar. In another day care I saw flower pots with children's name on it. Three year olds are encouraged to sow seeds and watch a seedling develop into a full grown plant. What a relaxing way to learn things. I really felt that our children were missing out on their childhood for no fault of theirs.
I may seem to have gone off the topic. No, not at all. I am coming to the point I wish to make. If one inculcated a love for learning in children and allowed them to do it at their own pace they may not peak before their time and will join college with their quest for knowledge in tact. As of now, we have a group that is so ambitious that they want short cuts to success and another group who are so weak that they lack even the will to try. The middle group to which most of us belong is perhaps missing. As a result no one wants to put their hearts into what they learn unless it translates into a five digit salary right from day one.
Sorry to sound pessimistic. But it is the future of India that is at stake. I've discussed only one aspect that bothers me. There are more angles that need to be explored and debated. I should consider the student's point of view and also accomodate the plight of parents who want the best for their wards. Somewhere in between the two, the role of politicians who want the masses to remain ignorant also needs to be included.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Happy Janmashtami.
Janmashtami is approaching and the time for churning out Gokulashtami delicacies is here. We Tamilians treat Baby Krishna to sweets and savories - yummy crispies like murukku, cheedai both the sweet and salty variety and anything that one felt like offering him - the explanation being that since Gokulashtami denoted his birth he could be given things that children relish. Not that older people like me don't relish them but these are supposed to be children's favorites and we could have a bite if we felt like it. Now my good friend Meera found this very funny.
"The Lord is an infant and should be offered milk, curd and a generous amount of butter. He has no teeth so how will he eat all these deep fired hard stuff?" she'd ask.
Not to be outsmarted I'd ask her if a new born could be treated to butter and curd and the question would remain unresolved.
I always feel that festivals in India are unique. It is during these festivals that good, wholesome home made delicacies were served. Sweets were exchanged and ladies socialized with others in the neighborhood. Whether it is Ramnavami, Navaratri, Deepavali or Sankaranthi all Hindus mark out the day and special items are carefully prepared and distributed after having been duly offered to God. Id-ul-fitr and the sewai one gets to eat from our Muslim friends or the cakes distributed during X'mas, Easter and New Year were also looked forward to with equal zest. I notice that I keep going into the past tense while I type out this piece. And why not? Making sweets at home has now become an onerous task and it seems easier to order them from the nearest sweet - mart. I won't be surprised if I tell my grandchildren some 5 years from now that when their parents were children I actually made sweets at home.
No, I am not blaming anyone. It is just that times have changed. Joint families have become a thing of the past and with both husband and wife working no one has the time. Moreover with machines taking over, even simple tasks like washing one's own clothes or pounding a little 'masala' seem impossible. When the body does not exercise it starts rejecting food that it cannot process and one starts gaining weight - me included. Believe me I've hand washed clothes as long as the children were in Jamshedpur and used the manual wet grinder till I was nearly 50 years of age. I'd return from college around 2 in the afternoon and soak a bucketful of clothes. I'd wash them at 4 in the evening and let the water drip while I went to fetch milk and when others picked up clothes that had dried I'd spread out clothes for drying.
"it is not good to dry out clothes when birds return to their nests. It is just not done at odd hours."- someone or the other would point out.
I had no choice. If I washed clothes in the morning I'd be late for work and/or my husband and children would have gone hungry. Ask me to do it now and I may get panic attacks. BTW my washing machine is out of order and I am deliberately not getting it fixed so that I may wash my own clothes if not that of the entire family. I may give in when winter sets in but this little task gives me immense pleasure. Clothes seem to be cleaner and my walking speed has indeed increased. When I really lose some 5 kgs of weight I'll let you know!!
We seem to have been better off without the TV. Ignorance was bliss indeed. We have News channels reporting the use of synthetic milk to prepare sweets and this in turn is made up of urea and detergent. Synthetic paneer and Khoya (Paal gova for Tamilians) with carcinogenic additives are being sold or so they say. I'd really like to know if News channels are exaggerating information to improve their TRP or if it is indeed so. Last week I had invited a friend's family for dinner and my husband made me prepare some mysore pak at home citing all kinds of examples of adulteration sending shivers down my spine. My friend was bringing her son and 77 year old mother along and I just could not take the risk.
Coming to adulteration, my husband had gone to grind some Sambhar powder and he saw a man grinding some 50 kgs of turmeric. The man added atleast 20 kgs of cheap quality rice and 10 small bottles of some chemical that gave the turmeric powder a rich yellow color. He was shocked but there was more to come. The same man ground a very poor quality of throw away red chillies and again added a chemical that gave it a bright red color. The laborer who did the grinding confided to my husband that this was a regular practise but could not tell him what chemical was being added and whether it was safe for human consumption. He paid the man extra money to clean up the machine before putting our stuff into it. I wonder if all the branded masalas in attractive colours are prepared this way. Luckily or unluckily my husband does not like the packaged masala availble in the market and we prepare our own. I would not know if pepper corns and papaya seeds were mixed but at least I see to it that no chemicals are added to our masala. Nowadays he packs masala and gives it among friends for a nominal price and even without any advertisement I notice that the masalas are in great demand even though some products are a little costlier because he does not buy at wholesale rates and is therefore not cost efficient.
I seem to be drifting from one topic to another. But I do feel like talking about all such problems that are hazardous to the physical and mental health of society. The front page of any newspaper contains all kinds of negative reports. Swine flu seems to be spreading in most places. I hope each one of you and all your friends and relatives are taking utmost precaution. Those with little children should be extra careful not to take them to crowded places.
I can go on and on. But let me sign off with a story.
A woman went to the doctor and said that she wanted to reduce her weight. The doctor asked her to go for brisk walks in the morning and she refused saying that she had arthritis and could not take the risk. More over she was prone to cold and cough and the chill morning weather would aggravate the problem.
He asked her to exercise at home using the tread mill or stepper. She refused saying that her enlarged heart which would pop out if she over strained it.
He asked her to do aerobics at home. She vetoed the idea saying that the marble floor in her bedroom may cause her to slip and fall.
In a similar vein she rejected every suggestion made by the doctor. She could not survive on a high protein diet since she had gas problem, boiled vegetables were out because she hated bland food etc. etc.....
Finally after exhausting every possible solution the doctor said-
"Sit on a comfortable sofa right in front of the TV, take a remote in your hand, surf channels and watch TV all day."
She said -
"That is exactly what I do and my weight keeps increasing."
Happy Janmashtami to all of you!!
"The Lord is an infant and should be offered milk, curd and a generous amount of butter. He has no teeth so how will he eat all these deep fired hard stuff?" she'd ask.
Not to be outsmarted I'd ask her if a new born could be treated to butter and curd and the question would remain unresolved.
I always feel that festivals in India are unique. It is during these festivals that good, wholesome home made delicacies were served. Sweets were exchanged and ladies socialized with others in the neighborhood. Whether it is Ramnavami, Navaratri, Deepavali or Sankaranthi all Hindus mark out the day and special items are carefully prepared and distributed after having been duly offered to God. Id-ul-fitr and the sewai one gets to eat from our Muslim friends or the cakes distributed during X'mas, Easter and New Year were also looked forward to with equal zest. I notice that I keep going into the past tense while I type out this piece. And why not? Making sweets at home has now become an onerous task and it seems easier to order them from the nearest sweet - mart. I won't be surprised if I tell my grandchildren some 5 years from now that when their parents were children I actually made sweets at home.
No, I am not blaming anyone. It is just that times have changed. Joint families have become a thing of the past and with both husband and wife working no one has the time. Moreover with machines taking over, even simple tasks like washing one's own clothes or pounding a little 'masala' seem impossible. When the body does not exercise it starts rejecting food that it cannot process and one starts gaining weight - me included. Believe me I've hand washed clothes as long as the children were in Jamshedpur and used the manual wet grinder till I was nearly 50 years of age. I'd return from college around 2 in the afternoon and soak a bucketful of clothes. I'd wash them at 4 in the evening and let the water drip while I went to fetch milk and when others picked up clothes that had dried I'd spread out clothes for drying.
"it is not good to dry out clothes when birds return to their nests. It is just not done at odd hours."- someone or the other would point out.
I had no choice. If I washed clothes in the morning I'd be late for work and/or my husband and children would have gone hungry. Ask me to do it now and I may get panic attacks. BTW my washing machine is out of order and I am deliberately not getting it fixed so that I may wash my own clothes if not that of the entire family. I may give in when winter sets in but this little task gives me immense pleasure. Clothes seem to be cleaner and my walking speed has indeed increased. When I really lose some 5 kgs of weight I'll let you know!!
We seem to have been better off without the TV. Ignorance was bliss indeed. We have News channels reporting the use of synthetic milk to prepare sweets and this in turn is made up of urea and detergent. Synthetic paneer and Khoya (Paal gova for Tamilians) with carcinogenic additives are being sold or so they say. I'd really like to know if News channels are exaggerating information to improve their TRP or if it is indeed so. Last week I had invited a friend's family for dinner and my husband made me prepare some mysore pak at home citing all kinds of examples of adulteration sending shivers down my spine. My friend was bringing her son and 77 year old mother along and I just could not take the risk.
Coming to adulteration, my husband had gone to grind some Sambhar powder and he saw a man grinding some 50 kgs of turmeric. The man added atleast 20 kgs of cheap quality rice and 10 small bottles of some chemical that gave the turmeric powder a rich yellow color. He was shocked but there was more to come. The same man ground a very poor quality of throw away red chillies and again added a chemical that gave it a bright red color. The laborer who did the grinding confided to my husband that this was a regular practise but could not tell him what chemical was being added and whether it was safe for human consumption. He paid the man extra money to clean up the machine before putting our stuff into it. I wonder if all the branded masalas in attractive colours are prepared this way. Luckily or unluckily my husband does not like the packaged masala availble in the market and we prepare our own. I would not know if pepper corns and papaya seeds were mixed but at least I see to it that no chemicals are added to our masala. Nowadays he packs masala and gives it among friends for a nominal price and even without any advertisement I notice that the masalas are in great demand even though some products are a little costlier because he does not buy at wholesale rates and is therefore not cost efficient.
I seem to be drifting from one topic to another. But I do feel like talking about all such problems that are hazardous to the physical and mental health of society. The front page of any newspaper contains all kinds of negative reports. Swine flu seems to be spreading in most places. I hope each one of you and all your friends and relatives are taking utmost precaution. Those with little children should be extra careful not to take them to crowded places.
I can go on and on. But let me sign off with a story.
A woman went to the doctor and said that she wanted to reduce her weight. The doctor asked her to go for brisk walks in the morning and she refused saying that she had arthritis and could not take the risk. More over she was prone to cold and cough and the chill morning weather would aggravate the problem.
He asked her to exercise at home using the tread mill or stepper. She refused saying that her enlarged heart which would pop out if she over strained it.
He asked her to do aerobics at home. She vetoed the idea saying that the marble floor in her bedroom may cause her to slip and fall.
In a similar vein she rejected every suggestion made by the doctor. She could not survive on a high protein diet since she had gas problem, boiled vegetables were out because she hated bland food etc. etc.....
Finally after exhausting every possible solution the doctor said-
"Sit on a comfortable sofa right in front of the TV, take a remote in your hand, surf channels and watch TV all day."
She said -
"That is exactly what I do and my weight keeps increasing."
Happy Janmashtami to all of you!!
Saturday, August 01, 2009
36 years of togetherness.
I've just completed 36 years of marriage and we are a unique couple who were born on Indian Independance and Republic days respectively and tied the knot on July 4th that happens to be United States of America's Independance day. I am sure both of us were freedom fighters in our previous births or perhaps scheming politicians who were sent again to lead simple lives - far from the madding crowd - one may say. I am indeed surprised how naive (read stupid) both of us could be and I think it is this quality that holds us together. I am planning to share some of the major goof ups we were involved in and leave it to you readers to tell me whether as a 'Ram milaye Jodi' we are entitled to celebrate our years of togetherness.
Three weeks back my husband brought home some toovar dal for half the market price from a roadside vendor who sold his stuff on Sunday mornings. The dal cooked really well and the flavor was also very good. We got worried if it was smuggled stuff or what. How else could a person be able to sell good quality dal for such a throw away price. I promptly asked him to get 2kgs. of dal each for two of my colleagues who were supporting large families. He gladly obliged. My colleagues were thankful for my concern and reported that the dal was indeed very good. The following week I decided my ex and current maid servants should benefit by the reduced price and my husband heartily agreed with me. He went in the scorching sun and although the man had increased the price by Rs. 5/- and he had sold most of it, my husband bought whatever he had and came home with 4.5 kgs. of dal. This time however the dal was not of very good quality with small insects creeping out. The two of us sat and cleaned it up - each one duly blaming the other and finally decided that it could not be given to anyone including my servants. I suggested that we roast it lightly to prevent it from being fully eaten up by the insects and we are now stuck with a container full of dal in addition to the amount we bought the previous week and the normal quota purchased from the market. We may have to consume it for the next 4-5 months. However I did give my servant 1 kg of the dal (good quality) purchased the previous week. She was the one who enlightened me on why the price quoted was so low.
"Didi, this is not toovar dal at all. This is called 'kussi' dal and is consumed by tribals in and around Chota Nagpur plateau. It is not very popular among people from the city. It tastes like toovar dal but is available at very cheap rates in the village side."
We felt like fools but were relieved that it was not smuggled or black market stuff. For all you know the person who sold it may not be seen again and we may end up being questioned. I request all of you to pass on recipes that involve the inclusion of a sizeable proportion of dal in it - ofcourse 'adai and vadai' excluded.
We went for the foundation day celebration at a local Sai Baba temple. My husband is a Sai devotee and I am a devotee of a lesser degree. We donated generously and bought two tickets for 'Bhog'. Later one of the volunteers who recognizes us said that we could eat bhog there for free and take back bhog for others at home in packed containers for which tickets were needed. Since there was no one at home we decided that we could use 1 ticket and give away the other one to someone else. I suggested that the ticket be returned to the volunteer who would in turn give it to someone in need. From a distance I saw my husband return the ticket and take out some money that he gave to the volunteer. 'He should know what he is doing' I thought and said nothing. The next day he asks me why I asked him to return the ticket and pay him money for a bhog coupon already paid for. I was apalled. I had said nothing of the sort. In fact I had told him not to take a refund for the coupon and in the din he thought that I had asked him to pay for it. You can imagine the 'tu,tu - main, main' that followed. It would have been better to have brought back more bhog and distributed it among our neighbors. The volunteer must have thought that we stupidly naive or naively stupid to return a coupon and also pay for it.
Looking back I realize that we are two of a kind but like the 'man in black' depicted by Goldsmith we like to pose as people who cannot be taken for a ride. But let me tell you we can be taken for a ride not in a bullock cart but in Rajdhani express. I realized how gullible we appeared to be when my ex servants daughter in law rang up from Chennai and asked me to lend her Rs. 50,000/- for the purchase of a flat (part of booking money). I really believed that her MIL would have no knowledge of her phone call when my ex servant surprised me by saying that the DIL had asked her to approach me but she was the one who suggested that since the amount involved was heavy, she should approach me herself. I made it clear that I was no Tata or Birla and being a bank employee she'd get a home loan for nominal interest. Within 2 months the son rings up for 1 lakh this time. I had to tell his mother to ask them not to pester me or else the 2 or 5 thousand I had planned to give them when their daughter joined college would also be withdrawn. The phone calls have stopped since and I hate myself for having had to say so.
There are many more such instances but I stop right here lest I sound repetitive. We are usually prudent spenders or so we like to believe but whatever we save is only to be squandered for nothing. I for one feel that I may as well spend the money with careless abandon. But how? I love Ice creams but I have blood sugar and tend to put on weight. My closet is full of clothes that I can carry over for for years to come. Medicines are all I need and I cannot over eat them. So I suppose I can continue to goof up with the full support of my husband and feel happy about it. I really wish I were naive enough not to recognize an act that could be called goofy!
Tell me now whether the following song could apply to us and even if we are a compatible couple for wrong reasons, should we not celebrate our 36 years of togetherness??
'Once a cock eye met a squint eye under the coconut tree.
Said the cock eye to the squint eye - will you marry me?'
Three weeks back my husband brought home some toovar dal for half the market price from a roadside vendor who sold his stuff on Sunday mornings. The dal cooked really well and the flavor was also very good. We got worried if it was smuggled stuff or what. How else could a person be able to sell good quality dal for such a throw away price. I promptly asked him to get 2kgs. of dal each for two of my colleagues who were supporting large families. He gladly obliged. My colleagues were thankful for my concern and reported that the dal was indeed very good. The following week I decided my ex and current maid servants should benefit by the reduced price and my husband heartily agreed with me. He went in the scorching sun and although the man had increased the price by Rs. 5/- and he had sold most of it, my husband bought whatever he had and came home with 4.5 kgs. of dal. This time however the dal was not of very good quality with small insects creeping out. The two of us sat and cleaned it up - each one duly blaming the other and finally decided that it could not be given to anyone including my servants. I suggested that we roast it lightly to prevent it from being fully eaten up by the insects and we are now stuck with a container full of dal in addition to the amount we bought the previous week and the normal quota purchased from the market. We may have to consume it for the next 4-5 months. However I did give my servant 1 kg of the dal (good quality) purchased the previous week. She was the one who enlightened me on why the price quoted was so low.
"Didi, this is not toovar dal at all. This is called 'kussi' dal and is consumed by tribals in and around Chota Nagpur plateau. It is not very popular among people from the city. It tastes like toovar dal but is available at very cheap rates in the village side."
We felt like fools but were relieved that it was not smuggled or black market stuff. For all you know the person who sold it may not be seen again and we may end up being questioned. I request all of you to pass on recipes that involve the inclusion of a sizeable proportion of dal in it - ofcourse 'adai and vadai' excluded.
We went for the foundation day celebration at a local Sai Baba temple. My husband is a Sai devotee and I am a devotee of a lesser degree. We donated generously and bought two tickets for 'Bhog'. Later one of the volunteers who recognizes us said that we could eat bhog there for free and take back bhog for others at home in packed containers for which tickets were needed. Since there was no one at home we decided that we could use 1 ticket and give away the other one to someone else. I suggested that the ticket be returned to the volunteer who would in turn give it to someone in need. From a distance I saw my husband return the ticket and take out some money that he gave to the volunteer. 'He should know what he is doing' I thought and said nothing. The next day he asks me why I asked him to return the ticket and pay him money for a bhog coupon already paid for. I was apalled. I had said nothing of the sort. In fact I had told him not to take a refund for the coupon and in the din he thought that I had asked him to pay for it. You can imagine the 'tu,tu - main, main' that followed. It would have been better to have brought back more bhog and distributed it among our neighbors. The volunteer must have thought that we stupidly naive or naively stupid to return a coupon and also pay for it.
Looking back I realize that we are two of a kind but like the 'man in black' depicted by Goldsmith we like to pose as people who cannot be taken for a ride. But let me tell you we can be taken for a ride not in a bullock cart but in Rajdhani express. I realized how gullible we appeared to be when my ex servants daughter in law rang up from Chennai and asked me to lend her Rs. 50,000/- for the purchase of a flat (part of booking money). I really believed that her MIL would have no knowledge of her phone call when my ex servant surprised me by saying that the DIL had asked her to approach me but she was the one who suggested that since the amount involved was heavy, she should approach me herself. I made it clear that I was no Tata or Birla and being a bank employee she'd get a home loan for nominal interest. Within 2 months the son rings up for 1 lakh this time. I had to tell his mother to ask them not to pester me or else the 2 or 5 thousand I had planned to give them when their daughter joined college would also be withdrawn. The phone calls have stopped since and I hate myself for having had to say so.
There are many more such instances but I stop right here lest I sound repetitive. We are usually prudent spenders or so we like to believe but whatever we save is only to be squandered for nothing. I for one feel that I may as well spend the money with careless abandon. But how? I love Ice creams but I have blood sugar and tend to put on weight. My closet is full of clothes that I can carry over for for years to come. Medicines are all I need and I cannot over eat them. So I suppose I can continue to goof up with the full support of my husband and feel happy about it. I really wish I were naive enough not to recognize an act that could be called goofy!
Tell me now whether the following song could apply to us and even if we are a compatible couple for wrong reasons, should we not celebrate our 36 years of togetherness??
'Once a cock eye met a squint eye under the coconut tree.
Said the cock eye to the squint eye - will you marry me?'
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Down the memory lane.
I had posted something on Perverted Minds and deleted it within a day or two. The reason was that I had unknowingly written about a person who is no more and when I realized it I felt bad considering that a dead person deserves no censure and one should let such souls rest in peace whatever be our differences when alive. Another reason is that I don't feel comfortable dealing with topics that harp on the bad side of human nature. There is so much of goodness all around us so why not encourage people with their stories? There are people who suffer in silence and never say a word against anyone. I feel dwarfed when I come in contact with them. I really do. There are others who are at the receiving end of life's blows and yet have a kind word for those around them and spread cheer wherever they go. Why worry about those who according to Dr. Jill Taylor have a bloated up left brain? They are not going to change anyway.
Having said this let me tell you about an aquaintance of mine. I wouldn't be able to give you his name because I don't know it myself. I know him as Telgu Tailor and my friends also know him as such. My first contact with him dates back to the time when I returned with my first born to Jamshedpur. My sister in law had asked him to make a few frocks for my daughter and we both went to collect them. Mild mannered and courteous he made us sit down, his wife offered us a glass of water. When we asked him what his charges were he smiled and said that it was his gift to the new arrival and did not want money. When we insisted on paying him he accepted a token amount of Rs. 2/-. His son was employed in TISCO and he stitched clothes just to keep himself occupied. He really did not need the money he insisted. Our years of association had just begun.
For the next three years he made dresses for my daughters and blouses for us at nominal cost and finally left for Rourkela where his son had landed a better job. We missed him a lot since no tailor could give us the fitting that he gave for our blouses. Within a year he returned with his wife, two daughters and a younger son. It was the usual story of the arrival of a daughter in law and his wife not getting on well with her etc. etc. To be fair to them I must say that the tailor and his wife being a tight lipped couple did not malign the son or DIL. Neighbors came to know of it through the innocent disclosure of the younger son and daughter who were in school. The older daughter was now married. The tailor started taking orders again and we were delighted. He was rather apologetic that he had to charge nearly as per the prevailing market rate. The family lived in the outhouse of TISCO's officer's quarters. I managed to get him quite a few orders from college since his house was on my way and it was easy to give and collect material from him. I'd bring him design books and he'd make beautiful dresses for my daughters. As a rule I never bought ready made dresses for them. Things seemed to be heading in the right direction when disaster struck. His daughter came back to Jamshedpur after the birth of a daughter unable to put up with torture at the hands of her husband and in laws. She had an older son but he was held back in Kharagpur - his mind duly poisoned against the mother.
Life went on with the daughter also taking to sewing clothes. The tailor was his usual composed self but his wife was heart broken and took ill. In the meantime the younger son and daughter continued to study. The daughter often travelled with me to college by share auto and the son came to our block to play with a neighbor's son. The younger daughter got a government job and the family shifted to another part of the town where she was allotted staff quarters and we lost touch once more. In the meanwhile the older daughter was widowed and for the first time I saw the tailor visibly disturbed. She was however offered a job on compassionate grounds and left for Kharagpur.
Years later I met him on my way to college. For the first time I saw him smile. His younger son was now a chartered accountant. The younger daughter had married a colleague of her's and was leading a happily married life. His wife's health was a cause for concern but they now lived in a 3 bedroom flat and had hired a servant to attend to her needs. I asked him if he'd take orders for blouses again because we still coud not find anyone as good as him. He politely refused saying that his son had forbidden him to sit by his sewing machine and wanted him to lead a peaceful retired life. Fair enough I felt and was genuinely happy for him. I wish I could end my narration right here. Unfortunately my story does not have a happy ending.
It was the morning of Republic Day and our tailor went out to fetch milk as usual. On his return he saw a few people standing by his son's car. He peeped in and saw his son lying dead within. He just could not believe what he saw. This could not happen to him he felt. But it had happened and he was at a loss for words. So were we when on hearing of the tragedy we rushed to his place. The boy had been in love with the daughter of the bungalow owner from the days that the family lived in the outhouse and the girl had reciprocated. But her family still considered him as being from a lower class despite the fact that his older brother was well employed and he was himself a chartered accountant. The girl's mother had insulted him with reference to his impoverished past and ignored her daughter's pleas. He had asked his brother to intervene on his behalf and the brother had also arrived from Rourkela with his wife for the purpose. They were to approach the girl's family on the evening of Republic day but the girl's mother hurriedly got her engaged to a boy of her choice on the previous day and told him that there was no need to ask his brother to come over since her daughter was already engaged. No one knew when he left the house and locked himself in his car and committed suicide. A suicide note addressed to his girl friend said it all. There was another note to the SP of Jamshedpur requesting him not to harass the girl or his parents since it was not their fault.
We were speechless. No words could console the bereaved family. Soon after the son's death the mother followed. I thought that our Telgu Tailor would perhaps shift to Rourkela or Kharagpur. A few months later I met him again on my way to a friend's place. He had vacated the house rented by his son and was living all by himself in an one room kitchen unit for a nominal rent. I suggested that he should start stitching again to keep himsel occupied. He smiled and I then realized that one could express not only joy but also sorrow through a smile.
"I stiched clothes to support my family. To give good education to my children. Too many memories were associated with my sewing machine. I cannot bear to go near it." he said.
"Why don't you go to your children?" I asked. "I am sure your elder daughter would be more than happy to support you after all that you've done for her."
"I cannot bear to leave the place where my son grew up." he said "After all, I have only his memories to live by. When I am unable to manage I will have to leave but right now I prefer to stay here."
"Please don't hesitate to let me know if you need help." My words sounded hollow even to my own ears. After all how does one help a person who lives but has no life?
Just out of curiosity I asked "What happened to the girl who caused all this misery?"
"What could she do about my fate? I was destined to lose my son anyway. I only hope that she is happy wherever she is. My son's soul would be pained if she weren't."
I was speechless once more. I was standing in front of magnanimity personified.
Having said this let me tell you about an aquaintance of mine. I wouldn't be able to give you his name because I don't know it myself. I know him as Telgu Tailor and my friends also know him as such. My first contact with him dates back to the time when I returned with my first born to Jamshedpur. My sister in law had asked him to make a few frocks for my daughter and we both went to collect them. Mild mannered and courteous he made us sit down, his wife offered us a glass of water. When we asked him what his charges were he smiled and said that it was his gift to the new arrival and did not want money. When we insisted on paying him he accepted a token amount of Rs. 2/-. His son was employed in TISCO and he stitched clothes just to keep himself occupied. He really did not need the money he insisted. Our years of association had just begun.
For the next three years he made dresses for my daughters and blouses for us at nominal cost and finally left for Rourkela where his son had landed a better job. We missed him a lot since no tailor could give us the fitting that he gave for our blouses. Within a year he returned with his wife, two daughters and a younger son. It was the usual story of the arrival of a daughter in law and his wife not getting on well with her etc. etc. To be fair to them I must say that the tailor and his wife being a tight lipped couple did not malign the son or DIL. Neighbors came to know of it through the innocent disclosure of the younger son and daughter who were in school. The older daughter was now married. The tailor started taking orders again and we were delighted. He was rather apologetic that he had to charge nearly as per the prevailing market rate. The family lived in the outhouse of TISCO's officer's quarters. I managed to get him quite a few orders from college since his house was on my way and it was easy to give and collect material from him. I'd bring him design books and he'd make beautiful dresses for my daughters. As a rule I never bought ready made dresses for them. Things seemed to be heading in the right direction when disaster struck. His daughter came back to Jamshedpur after the birth of a daughter unable to put up with torture at the hands of her husband and in laws. She had an older son but he was held back in Kharagpur - his mind duly poisoned against the mother.
Life went on with the daughter also taking to sewing clothes. The tailor was his usual composed self but his wife was heart broken and took ill. In the meantime the younger son and daughter continued to study. The daughter often travelled with me to college by share auto and the son came to our block to play with a neighbor's son. The younger daughter got a government job and the family shifted to another part of the town where she was allotted staff quarters and we lost touch once more. In the meanwhile the older daughter was widowed and for the first time I saw the tailor visibly disturbed. She was however offered a job on compassionate grounds and left for Kharagpur.
Years later I met him on my way to college. For the first time I saw him smile. His younger son was now a chartered accountant. The younger daughter had married a colleague of her's and was leading a happily married life. His wife's health was a cause for concern but they now lived in a 3 bedroom flat and had hired a servant to attend to her needs. I asked him if he'd take orders for blouses again because we still coud not find anyone as good as him. He politely refused saying that his son had forbidden him to sit by his sewing machine and wanted him to lead a peaceful retired life. Fair enough I felt and was genuinely happy for him. I wish I could end my narration right here. Unfortunately my story does not have a happy ending.
It was the morning of Republic Day and our tailor went out to fetch milk as usual. On his return he saw a few people standing by his son's car. He peeped in and saw his son lying dead within. He just could not believe what he saw. This could not happen to him he felt. But it had happened and he was at a loss for words. So were we when on hearing of the tragedy we rushed to his place. The boy had been in love with the daughter of the bungalow owner from the days that the family lived in the outhouse and the girl had reciprocated. But her family still considered him as being from a lower class despite the fact that his older brother was well employed and he was himself a chartered accountant. The girl's mother had insulted him with reference to his impoverished past and ignored her daughter's pleas. He had asked his brother to intervene on his behalf and the brother had also arrived from Rourkela with his wife for the purpose. They were to approach the girl's family on the evening of Republic day but the girl's mother hurriedly got her engaged to a boy of her choice on the previous day and told him that there was no need to ask his brother to come over since her daughter was already engaged. No one knew when he left the house and locked himself in his car and committed suicide. A suicide note addressed to his girl friend said it all. There was another note to the SP of Jamshedpur requesting him not to harass the girl or his parents since it was not their fault.
We were speechless. No words could console the bereaved family. Soon after the son's death the mother followed. I thought that our Telgu Tailor would perhaps shift to Rourkela or Kharagpur. A few months later I met him again on my way to a friend's place. He had vacated the house rented by his son and was living all by himself in an one room kitchen unit for a nominal rent. I suggested that he should start stitching again to keep himsel occupied. He smiled and I then realized that one could express not only joy but also sorrow through a smile.
"I stiched clothes to support my family. To give good education to my children. Too many memories were associated with my sewing machine. I cannot bear to go near it." he said.
"Why don't you go to your children?" I asked. "I am sure your elder daughter would be more than happy to support you after all that you've done for her."
"I cannot bear to leave the place where my son grew up." he said "After all, I have only his memories to live by. When I am unable to manage I will have to leave but right now I prefer to stay here."
"Please don't hesitate to let me know if you need help." My words sounded hollow even to my own ears. After all how does one help a person who lives but has no life?
Just out of curiosity I asked "What happened to the girl who caused all this misery?"
"What could she do about my fate? I was destined to lose my son anyway. I only hope that she is happy wherever she is. My son's soul would be pained if she weren't."
I was speechless once more. I was standing in front of magnanimity personified.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Incompatible alliances (contd.)
A lot has been said about the role of the man and woman in a partnership, married or otherwise. The success of the alliance depends on how much effort is put in to make it work. True, in fact very true. Another question that comes to one's mind is who gets to decide the upper limit of such an effort? Parents with their experience can give useful tips but their role ends there. If a mother feels that her daughter should be happy to have a responsible husband who cares and provides for her and the family, so what if he is is a home bird and refuses to socialize, she is perhaps not wrong. But neither is she right. Cooped up in the house, dealing with a sick mother in law and troublesome children it is natural of the daughter to want to go out and meet others of her age. A compromise formula has to be worked out by the couple in question. Others cannot decide for them.
Then the question arises as to whether a socially sanctioned license in the form of a marriage is necessary at all? I, for one feel that when human beings grouped themselves into clans and society, the arrangement of getting married evolved. Polygamy was not frowned upon in the beginning mainly because menfolk were hunter-gatherers and their lives were at risk. So it was customary for married men who stayed behind to marry the young widow and take care of her children. Later this arrangement became a right and was extended to men whose wives did not bear children and later to those who did not bear sons. Kings and monarchs married for political reasons and some religions allowed men to take on several partners through marriage claiming that it was God's will. Hindu mythology has every kind of alliance as example starting from Gandharva vivah and swayamvar to a monogamous Ram to Murugan with two wives and our charming Krishna whose relationship with Gopika is claimed to be platonic and Radha was his childhood friend. Meera's devotion was again on an entirely different level. One has to just go through the Mahabharat to understand how flexible a society existed at the time. Trial and error perhaps resulted in the present arrangement where a monogamous marriage is linked to accountabilty and is therefore a widely accepted practise.
However, with the tolerance level going down and the pain and trauma of a divorce becoming more common, the feasibility of the arrangement is being questioned. Women empowerment has blurred the division of labour that existed 50 years back where women looked after the house and men went out to work. Men are no longer the sole providers and women no longer wish to be tied down to the kitchen. I don't see anything wrong there and I am all praise for the current generation of young parents where both partners take equal responsibilty in running a family. Evolution, whether societal or biological, always comes with a price tag. The survival of the fittest. Whether genes or unicellular organisms like bacteria, plants or animals, nature eliminates anything that is known to have a deletorious effect on the community and the environment. They are never allowed to flourish. In my opinion the trauma of the present times will soon give rise to the best possible arrangement and that in my opinion would be acceptable to all. Anything that is unacceptable will automatically be rejected and eliminated. People like me worry in vain.
Then the question arises as to whether a socially sanctioned license in the form of a marriage is necessary at all? I, for one feel that when human beings grouped themselves into clans and society, the arrangement of getting married evolved. Polygamy was not frowned upon in the beginning mainly because menfolk were hunter-gatherers and their lives were at risk. So it was customary for married men who stayed behind to marry the young widow and take care of her children. Later this arrangement became a right and was extended to men whose wives did not bear children and later to those who did not bear sons. Kings and monarchs married for political reasons and some religions allowed men to take on several partners through marriage claiming that it was God's will. Hindu mythology has every kind of alliance as example starting from Gandharva vivah and swayamvar to a monogamous Ram to Murugan with two wives and our charming Krishna whose relationship with Gopika is claimed to be platonic and Radha was his childhood friend. Meera's devotion was again on an entirely different level. One has to just go through the Mahabharat to understand how flexible a society existed at the time. Trial and error perhaps resulted in the present arrangement where a monogamous marriage is linked to accountabilty and is therefore a widely accepted practise.
However, with the tolerance level going down and the pain and trauma of a divorce becoming more common, the feasibility of the arrangement is being questioned. Women empowerment has blurred the division of labour that existed 50 years back where women looked after the house and men went out to work. Men are no longer the sole providers and women no longer wish to be tied down to the kitchen. I don't see anything wrong there and I am all praise for the current generation of young parents where both partners take equal responsibilty in running a family. Evolution, whether societal or biological, always comes with a price tag. The survival of the fittest. Whether genes or unicellular organisms like bacteria, plants or animals, nature eliminates anything that is known to have a deletorious effect on the community and the environment. They are never allowed to flourish. In my opinion the trauma of the present times will soon give rise to the best possible arrangement and that in my opinion would be acceptable to all. Anything that is unacceptable will automatically be rejected and eliminated. People like me worry in vain.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Incompatible alliances
I have so many thoughts crowding my mind that I cannot decide which one to take up first. I think I'll talk of marriages that seem to break even before the couple care enough for each other to even give it a try. Why,why does it appear to happen more and more these days?
I think it was in early 2008 that I had tried to 'Defend Arranged Marriages' and ended up failing miserably since as usual I started seeing the other point of view and actually ended up endorsing (not quite, perhaps?) the right of younsters of Gen X to decide on who they want to spend their lives with. Before I am labeled a hypocrite let me clarify. I could not actually claim that marriages arranged by parents were always successful or that those arranged by the children concerned were disastrous. So I made a safe exit by mumbling something that was acceptable to all. That was just a light beginning to a rather serious issue. So let me get going.
I often think about why Indian parents want to have a say in their children's marriage. They seem liberal enough but when their children marry they prefer to stick to their own community/religion/social standing etc. etc. This is because they feel that their children would be able to adjust better. But is it really so? Take for instance the example of a couple I know or rather heard about.
S and P were neighbors and were happy when their children, both IT professionals decided to marry. 'Thank God they did not choose someone from a different state speaking a strange language' they thought. Their wives felt puffed up. 'Upbringing matters' they beamed at each other. 'It is the culture we've inculcated in them'.
Their joy was shortlived. The highly qualified professionals had not learnt the simple truth that marriage means much more than looking good on the wedding day. The first two years of marriage were okay. Trouble started when the husband wanted the wife to slow down and think of starting a family while the wife, who was on the verge of receiving a promotion and expected to be sent abroad to train a new batch of systems trainees, flatly refused. She felt children could wait. She accused her husband of being jealous of her success. Their relationship soured and even without consulting their parents, they filed for a divorce. Parents pitched in, they were asked to go for counseling. 'Upbringing' and 'culture' seemed to be words without any real meaning. All they could be happy about was that no children were involved in the mess that was called marriage.
B had been a good student and it was no surprise that he was accepted in an American University with full scholarship. His parents were elated and at the age of 18 he left India to study in America. He gradually took to the American way of living. His friends were Americans and he relished their company as well as their food. Weekends for him meant car racing and mountain hiking. Drinking beer after a hard days work was no sin. He got a job in a multinational company in California and his parents started hunting for a suitable girl for him. They were perhaps not too happy with his preference for beef and pork and felt that getting him married to a traditional Indian girl may help him to appreciate everything that was Indian and help him change his ways that were rather objectionable to them.
K was a girl from a traditional south Indian background. True she had done her Engineering and had a good GRE score and hoped to pursue her studies in USA. Her parents would not hear of sending her on her own to America. She could get married and do what she pleased. They found B a suitable choice and after a sound background check on B's family, the kulam - gothram stuff and horoscopes duly matched, the couple were married and K was happy to have a chance to study in America. She was 22 and B was 30, but Tambrahm parents do not bother too much about the age difference. So our Tambrhm bride with no exposure to life outside her immediate community let alone a foreign country was sent to America after the necessary formalities of passport/visa etc were completed. trouble started from day 1. She cooked a simple south Indian meal but B would not touch it. He took out some precooked stuff from the fridge and after heating it up in the microwave and settled down with a glass of beer and started watching some adventure sports on TV. K was shocked to say the least. He seemed to be eating some weird smelling non vegetarian stuff and she had never seen people consume alcohol except villains in movies. He spent his weekends with his friends and she refused to join him. Her idea of spending week ends was a visit to the Indian store, watching some Tamil movie at home enjoying some special south Indian delicacies. A visit to the temple was welcome and she longed for the company of Indians who she was told would also visit the Indian store and temples during weekends. He encouraged her to go out on her own but she was so much in awe of the malls and shopping centers in America that she dared not venture out on her own. He was not used to people dictating terms and here he was, stuck to a wife who was a not only a nag but also a highly opinionated woman who made no effort to understand him. In no time the couple realized that they could not continue to live together and a divorce was the best solution. They could have separated amicably but unfortunately it was not so. I'd rather not go into details because whatever I know is only through third and fourth persons and I may not be fair to them if I went into further details.
There are many more such cases where the blame cannot be accorded to one or the other partner. Parents think that they are doing the right thing by sticking to certain basic rules while choosing a partner for their wards. This may have made sense some 40 to 50 years ago when it was common for children to study and later take up a job in or around their home town. The children more or less followed family traditions and allowed parents to decide on a suitable partner and accepted their choice without a murmur. There are several children who willingly let their parents choose partners for them but there several others who make their own choice and are happily married. I cannot say which is the better arrangement but I do know that if your ambition permits you to let your son/daughter leave home at an impressionable age and have a high flying career, you should be prepared to deal with an adult son/daughter who has a mind of his own. Should you take it upon yourself to arrange their marriage it is imperative that you accomodate their interest in your choice. One cannot have it both ways. As in the case of B and K weren't parents at least partly responsible for the situation? Or in the earlier example were not parents hasty in declaring that it was their upbringing that made their children decide to marry each other? Marriage is a highly personal arrangement and for some reason compromises have become a thing of the past in many cases. Affiliation to the same community or religion is no more a priority and is certainly not a pre-requisite to compatbility.
S and T decided to marry though they belonged to different cutural and religious backgrounds.They were both atheists. P's parents understood and supported the marriage. S could not convince his parents who insisted on conversion. Three years have gone by but they do not understand that for a couple who don't believe in God conversion has no meaning at all. They keep insisting that with age their children would change their view on the existence of God they certainly could not have children who did not belong to any religion. Touch wood the couple are happily married and they have a daughter who adds joy to their lives. Let us hope that his parents see reason for as far as I can see if they miss watching their grand daughter grow the loss is theirs.
I hope I have dealt with the topic with the fairness that it deserves. I would really welcome my readers to come up with their opinion on why marriages fail and who exactly is responsible for the situation. I don't want to be harsh on parents since as one such parent myself I can understand their anxiety and firmly believe that they have their child's welfare in mind. I met a friend's daughter who had been brought up in USA. She was one who had an arranged marriage and her husband was working in the Middle East. The couple met once a year. My daughter was surprised and asked her how she felt about it. "What does one do if one's mother sheds tears and forces you to marry a person of her choice? I have no real feeling for my husband and this long distant arrangement suits me fine." Her honesty surprised me but it also set me thinking. I wondered if the couple would ever bond. I suppose they will. After all most in my generation had an arranged marriage and we did bond with the husband and his family but then ours was not a long distant marriage! Let me stop right here or else I may confuse you.
I think it was in early 2008 that I had tried to 'Defend Arranged Marriages' and ended up failing miserably since as usual I started seeing the other point of view and actually ended up endorsing (not quite, perhaps?) the right of younsters of Gen X to decide on who they want to spend their lives with. Before I am labeled a hypocrite let me clarify. I could not actually claim that marriages arranged by parents were always successful or that those arranged by the children concerned were disastrous. So I made a safe exit by mumbling something that was acceptable to all. That was just a light beginning to a rather serious issue. So let me get going.
I often think about why Indian parents want to have a say in their children's marriage. They seem liberal enough but when their children marry they prefer to stick to their own community/religion/social standing etc. etc. This is because they feel that their children would be able to adjust better. But is it really so? Take for instance the example of a couple I know or rather heard about.
S and P were neighbors and were happy when their children, both IT professionals decided to marry. 'Thank God they did not choose someone from a different state speaking a strange language' they thought. Their wives felt puffed up. 'Upbringing matters' they beamed at each other. 'It is the culture we've inculcated in them'.
Their joy was shortlived. The highly qualified professionals had not learnt the simple truth that marriage means much more than looking good on the wedding day. The first two years of marriage were okay. Trouble started when the husband wanted the wife to slow down and think of starting a family while the wife, who was on the verge of receiving a promotion and expected to be sent abroad to train a new batch of systems trainees, flatly refused. She felt children could wait. She accused her husband of being jealous of her success. Their relationship soured and even without consulting their parents, they filed for a divorce. Parents pitched in, they were asked to go for counseling. 'Upbringing' and 'culture' seemed to be words without any real meaning. All they could be happy about was that no children were involved in the mess that was called marriage.
B had been a good student and it was no surprise that he was accepted in an American University with full scholarship. His parents were elated and at the age of 18 he left India to study in America. He gradually took to the American way of living. His friends were Americans and he relished their company as well as their food. Weekends for him meant car racing and mountain hiking. Drinking beer after a hard days work was no sin. He got a job in a multinational company in California and his parents started hunting for a suitable girl for him. They were perhaps not too happy with his preference for beef and pork and felt that getting him married to a traditional Indian girl may help him to appreciate everything that was Indian and help him change his ways that were rather objectionable to them.
K was a girl from a traditional south Indian background. True she had done her Engineering and had a good GRE score and hoped to pursue her studies in USA. Her parents would not hear of sending her on her own to America. She could get married and do what she pleased. They found B a suitable choice and after a sound background check on B's family, the kulam - gothram stuff and horoscopes duly matched, the couple were married and K was happy to have a chance to study in America. She was 22 and B was 30, but Tambrahm parents do not bother too much about the age difference. So our Tambrhm bride with no exposure to life outside her immediate community let alone a foreign country was sent to America after the necessary formalities of passport/visa etc were completed. trouble started from day 1. She cooked a simple south Indian meal but B would not touch it. He took out some precooked stuff from the fridge and after heating it up in the microwave and settled down with a glass of beer and started watching some adventure sports on TV. K was shocked to say the least. He seemed to be eating some weird smelling non vegetarian stuff and she had never seen people consume alcohol except villains in movies. He spent his weekends with his friends and she refused to join him. Her idea of spending week ends was a visit to the Indian store, watching some Tamil movie at home enjoying some special south Indian delicacies. A visit to the temple was welcome and she longed for the company of Indians who she was told would also visit the Indian store and temples during weekends. He encouraged her to go out on her own but she was so much in awe of the malls and shopping centers in America that she dared not venture out on her own. He was not used to people dictating terms and here he was, stuck to a wife who was a not only a nag but also a highly opinionated woman who made no effort to understand him. In no time the couple realized that they could not continue to live together and a divorce was the best solution. They could have separated amicably but unfortunately it was not so. I'd rather not go into details because whatever I know is only through third and fourth persons and I may not be fair to them if I went into further details.
There are many more such cases where the blame cannot be accorded to one or the other partner. Parents think that they are doing the right thing by sticking to certain basic rules while choosing a partner for their wards. This may have made sense some 40 to 50 years ago when it was common for children to study and later take up a job in or around their home town. The children more or less followed family traditions and allowed parents to decide on a suitable partner and accepted their choice without a murmur. There are several children who willingly let their parents choose partners for them but there several others who make their own choice and are happily married. I cannot say which is the better arrangement but I do know that if your ambition permits you to let your son/daughter leave home at an impressionable age and have a high flying career, you should be prepared to deal with an adult son/daughter who has a mind of his own. Should you take it upon yourself to arrange their marriage it is imperative that you accomodate their interest in your choice. One cannot have it both ways. As in the case of B and K weren't parents at least partly responsible for the situation? Or in the earlier example were not parents hasty in declaring that it was their upbringing that made their children decide to marry each other? Marriage is a highly personal arrangement and for some reason compromises have become a thing of the past in many cases. Affiliation to the same community or religion is no more a priority and is certainly not a pre-requisite to compatbility.
S and T decided to marry though they belonged to different cutural and religious backgrounds.They were both atheists. P's parents understood and supported the marriage. S could not convince his parents who insisted on conversion. Three years have gone by but they do not understand that for a couple who don't believe in God conversion has no meaning at all. They keep insisting that with age their children would change their view on the existence of God they certainly could not have children who did not belong to any religion. Touch wood the couple are happily married and they have a daughter who adds joy to their lives. Let us hope that his parents see reason for as far as I can see if they miss watching their grand daughter grow the loss is theirs.
I hope I have dealt with the topic with the fairness that it deserves. I would really welcome my readers to come up with their opinion on why marriages fail and who exactly is responsible for the situation. I don't want to be harsh on parents since as one such parent myself I can understand their anxiety and firmly believe that they have their child's welfare in mind. I met a friend's daughter who had been brought up in USA. She was one who had an arranged marriage and her husband was working in the Middle East. The couple met once a year. My daughter was surprised and asked her how she felt about it. "What does one do if one's mother sheds tears and forces you to marry a person of her choice? I have no real feeling for my husband and this long distant arrangement suits me fine." Her honesty surprised me but it also set me thinking. I wondered if the couple would ever bond. I suppose they will. After all most in my generation had an arranged marriage and we did bond with the husband and his family but then ours was not a long distant marriage! Let me stop right here or else I may confuse you.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Hello...........oo
It feels good to be back. It feels great to arrive home at 10:30AM and a phone call from college greets one at 11:00 AM enquiring whether I plan to join college the very same day! It feels wonderful to be wanted. To know that people care for you. I would have liked to have taken a day or two off but I rushed to college and saw the relief on my colleague's face.
"You were running out of leave. I was wondering how to adjust it. Thank God you're back."
Now this particular girl was assistant to the Principal's PA and to be frank I was not on very great terms with her. Just cordial and polite but never more than that. I was touched. It was on her insistance that my HOD rang me up and asked me to join the same day. She could have let things be. A salary cut for me would have made no difference to her. But that is what our college is all about! Thank you S, I'll always remember your concern.
My stay in America was hectic. Grandchildren are a source of joy. I returned to India dreaming about them. While I am not too keen on relocating to the US of A I am glad that our tools of communication is improving by the day and we can remain in constant touch and who'd have thought that I'd be traveling to America as if it was a trip to Bombay or Delhi! Starting from 2002 I've met my children almost each year except perhaps in 2005 and I have no reason to complain.
I get to read some good books whenever I visit my children. So it was this time also. I'd recommend My Stroke of Insight by Dr. Jill Taylor to all of you. It is about the miraculous recovery of the author from a massive stroke and the manner she rediscovered the working of the human brain and the impact it had on her life. Those of us that believe in universal brotherhood and love for fellow human beings should definitely go through this book. According to her, the left hemisphere of our brain is rigid, recognizes limits and is responsible for the analytical side of our nature. This often results in a judgemental attitude and egoistic tendencies. The right side is responsible for a blending, harmonious approach where one can experience universal harmony and bliss and oneness with nature. A balanced mind is the result of according equal importance to both sides so that one can be tolerant without being submissive and analytical without being judgemental. I was greatly impressed and brought the book back to India for others to read and benefit by Dr. Taylor's personal account.
So when my husband blasts me for no fault of mine I plan to tell him that it's really not his fault. I understand that the left side of his brain is working overtime and need to rest a bit!...**wink, wink**. Actually the 6 weeks of alone time has proved useful and he is extra nice these days. I hope I really remember to say all this when our usual routine sets in. The next time I crib about him please remind me won't you?
I think that is enough for a come back post. Hillgmom is planning a trip to USa to see her new grandson. I can sense her excitement. Little Anush is all excited about having a little one at home and I congratulate artnavy for the good news she gave us. As for the rest of you, I am finally done with my jet lag and will catch up on your posts soon. A big hello from me to each of you. Hello.......oo
"You were running out of leave. I was wondering how to adjust it. Thank God you're back."
Now this particular girl was assistant to the Principal's PA and to be frank I was not on very great terms with her. Just cordial and polite but never more than that. I was touched. It was on her insistance that my HOD rang me up and asked me to join the same day. She could have let things be. A salary cut for me would have made no difference to her. But that is what our college is all about! Thank you S, I'll always remember your concern.
My stay in America was hectic. Grandchildren are a source of joy. I returned to India dreaming about them. While I am not too keen on relocating to the US of A I am glad that our tools of communication is improving by the day and we can remain in constant touch and who'd have thought that I'd be traveling to America as if it was a trip to Bombay or Delhi! Starting from 2002 I've met my children almost each year except perhaps in 2005 and I have no reason to complain.
I get to read some good books whenever I visit my children. So it was this time also. I'd recommend My Stroke of Insight by Dr. Jill Taylor to all of you. It is about the miraculous recovery of the author from a massive stroke and the manner she rediscovered the working of the human brain and the impact it had on her life. Those of us that believe in universal brotherhood and love for fellow human beings should definitely go through this book. According to her, the left hemisphere of our brain is rigid, recognizes limits and is responsible for the analytical side of our nature. This often results in a judgemental attitude and egoistic tendencies. The right side is responsible for a blending, harmonious approach where one can experience universal harmony and bliss and oneness with nature. A balanced mind is the result of according equal importance to both sides so that one can be tolerant without being submissive and analytical without being judgemental. I was greatly impressed and brought the book back to India for others to read and benefit by Dr. Taylor's personal account.
So when my husband blasts me for no fault of mine I plan to tell him that it's really not his fault. I understand that the left side of his brain is working overtime and need to rest a bit!...**wink, wink**. Actually the 6 weeks of alone time has proved useful and he is extra nice these days. I hope I really remember to say all this when our usual routine sets in. The next time I crib about him please remind me won't you?
I think that is enough for a come back post. Hillgmom is planning a trip to USa to see her new grandson. I can sense her excitement. Little Anush is all excited about having a little one at home and I congratulate artnavy for the good news she gave us. As for the rest of you, I am finally done with my jet lag and will catch up on your posts soon. A big hello from me to each of you. Hello.......oo
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