Warm and Fuzzy

So I am not overly religious - I believe in prayer but don't do so everyday. I love going to temples but only manage to do so occasionally. However, I almost always leave a temple with this great feeling of peace and I don't know, maybe even a sense of freedom. Last week, I took my younger one to the local Udipi temple and we spent around 15 minutes there. I could see my son praying hard and heard him ask Ummachi for his ripstick back (long story, short version of which is that because of damages to the walls of our home, I confiscated their Ripstick from the kids). I reminded him that praying is not just asking for stuff but also thanking Ummachi for the things we do have. We spent the remainder of the time sitting quietly in front of the sannidhi, rang the bells, he did his thopukaranams that his grandparents have been teaching him and then we headed back home. One the way back he says " Amma, can we come more often to the kovil? Something inside me feels really good right now. ". I was surprised and somewhat mystified that a six year old could feel some of the same things I get out of a temple visit. I still feel all warm and fuzzy that this is something I can share with my little one, that he gets what I get from a temple visit. I am also humbled and a little bit ashamed by the fact that I was surprised at his reaction, that I underestimated his ability to perceive and express these deeper sentiments. You learn something new everyday I guess.

CSA - my two cents worth

I saw Ummon's post about child abuse as specifically happens in the Gulf to desi families and it got me thinking how the US also has it's unique circumstances for desi families. In the past, there have been people that have argued with me that child sexual abuse is limited to the West and that it "never" happened in India when they were growing up and if it happens now, well, it just goes to show the negative influences of the West! To these same people, in an effort to convince them (quite unsucessfully), I have pointed out that almost all of us women who have been in a PTC bus in Madras have been felt up and groped and touched inappropriately and many times as very young girls. If that's not a form of abuse, what is? I have asked them. When I was in my third standard, one day, my mother sent me to buy a coconut from the market. Besant Nagar those days was a quiet, unassuming locality with hardly a car in sight during midday and for that matter, not more than a few handful of people on it's wide tree lined streets. As I was walking, someone from a few yards away called out to me, not by name but somehow I looked up. He had his zipper open and was jerking off in the middle of the street. I was young enough not to know what it was, but still grossed out enough to run away from there. Years later, I made the connection as to what the guy was doing and repulsed all over again. When you speak of such incidents to people to say "hey, we didn't grow up in such pristine conditions as you assume", most people get this shuttered look in their eyes and you know nothing you say will get through to them because they do not want to acknowlege that there is a problem. When I have pointed out examples of women I know that were abused by "riksha karans" as young as in the first standard (around the age of 5), or by a dad's best friend(so they cannot use the excuse of "uneducated people will do such things"), I get almost accusatory looks (which I am sure is a case of shoot the messenger) and people get uncomfortable and change topics. Many of these same people tell their young children to "give Aunty/Uncle XYZ a big hug and a kiss" and I cringe. They truly believe that as long as they stick around with other desis, the big bad West(and all the things it brings with it along with child abuse, but that's another post for another day) cannot touch their children.
Growing up, my mom never allowed sleep overs at friends' places. Her take - everybody cannot be good all the time. When opportunity is presented, there is no knowing how the mind might sway and even if it is a one-off for the abuser, that incident will live with the child for the rest of their life. I did not understand this when I was young and used to rail at my mom for her "old-fashioned" beliefs. In retrospect though, I agree. The same uncle that has always been so fatherly and kind to you may not feel the same on another day, quite suddenly. Parents have to acknowledge this - (s)he may be your best friend and you may trust your family's finances with him or her. However, accidents do happen. , Again, whenever I was going to visit a friend, my dad used to call them and under the guise of getting an address or something equally innocent, he would ascertain that there would always be more than one adult around the entire time of my visit. Again, it used to drive me nuts as no one else I knew had their parents calling mine when they came over, but our rules were set - no exceptions. In the middleclass US we live in, we believe that we are insulated from the problem because we or our friends take care of our children, rarely a maid or a driver. There is no rishakaran, we do car pools with friends and don't we trust them all - educated as they are from schools similar to ours, families and husbands and wives just like ours, why, even a son and/or a daughter at the same age as ours!! This blind trust bothers me quite a bit, as much or more than it bothers me to even think of mistrusting my friends. People remember more about how they never heard about child abuse growing up(so it never occured then of course) , any attempts to say otherwise makes you a kill joy or some one that wants to find fault with India needlessly. I don't believe this is an India problem or a problem only in the West or only in the Far East or isolated to Mars. I believe this is global and we must all wake up to it. It's not a problem isolated to the "uneducated", it happens in all social circles and is definitely opportunistic. Many of the friendly "uncles" or "aunties" that end up being abusers would not make elaborate plans to abuse a child - more often than not, such instances happen as the opportunity is thrown their way. Parents abroad have to acknowledge that being born Indian does not make someone an instant pillar of trustworthiness.

Take me for granted, please!

My son had a party at school for Valentine's Day and I had to decorate a bag for him. For non-creative me, that is a huge deal and I went to work with glitter glue and stickers. I took it into school the next day and my son ofcourse, was expecting me. Something about his confidence that I would show up with the bag struck me, made me feel warm and fuzzy. I remembered other times when I had seen that look before, that look that said "she'll be here". They take for granted that I will be there for them and to me, that is my gold medal. I hope they never change that.

Deja Vu

Have you ever been back at the site of an accident you were involved in? It's the strangest feeling, you almost feel like you should be seeing something there, some evidence of the magnitude of the fall, the injury, the drama. And yet, there is nothing there but people walking about their daily business and it hits home how much life moves on, with you or without you in it. Wait! You want to shout, this here. THIS is the spot it happened, your mind screams. Right here! No one cares, they mill around waiting to pick up their children, gabbing on cell phones, playing on their hand helds, reading books, not aware of what the walls had witnessed a few months back. It's almost like you want to make it into some sort of a shrine, except not in a reverential way. You want the spot marked. You remember all too clearly, waiting for your child, just like they are now. Talking on the cell phone, just like them. Feeling darn good in those strappy, made for you, high heeled shoes. Half aware of your other child losing his balance as he tries to hug you. You holding on to him for dear life and spinning, spinning through the air. You, hearing your bones break with a crunch in your shin (more than feeling it) and thinking "Oh shoot baby, what did you do?" before the pain hits and you fall down, holding your ankle, screaming "My foot, my foot" not even aware that everything you were carrying has been flung down, your mom with whom your were on the cell phone not a moment ago hearing every agonizing scream from the other end of the world. Your child rushing at you with concern and you flinging him away in your moment of intense pain. Nothing but white hot pain. Your child moving to the corner and standing with his back pressed to the wall. Not having it in you to comfort him yet. Not yet. Needing a selfish moment more to just feel your pain and no one else's. Other parents rushing in and lifting you onto a chair. A woman there picking up the scattered items from your bag and handing you your phone and asking you to call whoever. Dazedly realizing your husband is not in town and that for the time being atleast, you must pull yourself together and get your children to a safe place first. And then calling your husband and telling him to get home asap as a part of your leg is literally hanging off a chair. Calling friends. Asking the parents there to please call 911, please, please, please. And then praying that your friends will get there before the ambulance. All the while watching your children, their faces pressed to the glass and willing themselves not to cry. Shivering in the thin shirt you are wearing, shock lowering your temperature. Yelling at the paramedics as they ask you incessant questions, waiting for the blessed morphine to take effect. Panicking as they load you on the stretcher and the friend not beingthere yet to pick your kids up. Sighing in relief as finally, finally, when as you are loaded into the ambulance, you see her leading your two little hearts to her car, their faces scrunched with worry and trying to look brave. Sighing that now you could think about yourself.
As you stand there and look at that place, you wonder at how anonymous it actually looks, that place.

Cuts both ways

I recently read MMs post here on the judgement SAHMs face and my comment ended up being too long so it is coming up as this post -

I think it it cuts both ways. I see plenty of SAHMs that tend to have a sanctimonious attitude when they talk to and of working mothers "I don't know - my family is so important to me that I could never leave them and go out to work". "I could never leave my child the way you do and go somewhere outside to work". Err, I think that a majority of mothers anywhere in the world would place their family and children on the top of their important list, working or not. WHy then do I have to hear statements that imply that by choosing to work, I have somehow brought down my family's importance in my life? That I choose to add something to my list of what is important in my life (in this case, me, namely because I don't need to work for the money but for the rush I feel from working))?. A lot of SAHMs behave like they have martyred themselves to the cause of raising their babies, especially when they sound defensive and qualify their choice with how important their family is to them and how they have placed their children over their selves. Plenty of SAHMs go to a gym, go shopping, get on the telephone with their chums everyday - arent they choosing a few minutes or an hour or two for themselves during those times? That is their "me time", granted. My "me time" takes up more time in a day than their "me time". So what?

The bottom line is this - each of us have to be at peace within ourselves for the choices we have made. For the longest time, statements like the ones above made me feel less of a mom somehow, that somehow I was committing a crime for leaving my children under someone else's care. As time (and a short 3 month stint at home) went by though I realized this - you do what you have to to be in a happy place deep inside. The happy place changes, what makes you happy changes but only you can judge what that is - you only need to be flexible enough to recognize that and move with the flow. Something that another mother does is not necessarily one that puts you in your happy place. As your kids grow and mature, their needs increase in certain areas and decrease in others and as a mother, you instinctively recognize the increased pockets of need and step in while pulling away from other places where they don't need you anymore or need you less (and I believe that pulling away is as important as stepping in). As more and more mothers choose to either join or leave the workplace, we have to recognize that it is OUR" choice and cease to make excuses for making them, other people be damned! Nobody else walks in my uniquely fitting shoes and nobody else is qualified to make a pronouncement on how those shoes pinch their feet, whether I am an SAHM or a work outside the home mom!

IF

This is a fun tag from here

If I were a month, I’d be July
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Sunday
If I were a time of day, I’d be the crack of dawn
If I were a season, I’d be Spring.
If I were a planet, I’d be Venus.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a dolphin
If I were a direction, I’d be lost
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be an ottoman.
If I were a liquid, I’d be Water
If I were a tree, I’d be a Neem
If I were a tool, I’d be a Wrench
If I were an element, I’d be Water
If I were a gemstone, I’d be Ruby
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a Violin
If I were a color, I’d be Red
If I were a emotion, I’d be Happiness
If I were a fruit, I’d be an Orange
If I were a sound, I’d be the sound of waves crashing on the rocks.
If I were a car, I’d be a Prius (I'd be the one that just won't stop:))
If I were food, I’d be Avakka Manga (Raw mango pickle)
If I were a taste, I’d be Hot and Spicy
If I were a scent, I’d be Citrussy with a hint of floral
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be strappy and high heeled (more straps the better)
And if I were a bird, I’d be a parrot
……….go on..now it’s your turn to give it a shot!

Breastfeeding - the right to choose?

There was a recent report here that talks about how exclusively breastfeeding can save more lives every year. The report states that new moms should not be blamed but instead lays the blame on latching on problems and grandmothers dissuading against the practice. I breastfed each of my children exclusively for 6 months and then almost till each was almost 13mths and 19mths respectively. I can tell you what an effort it took to stick to my beliefs. First of all my children were diagnosed with a dairy allergy so that if I took even a spoon of any dairy product, they would pass blood in their stools. I went through 2 excruciatingly painful months for mother and child when we put baby(ies) on a special formula and waited to flush the dairy out of their system. All this while, I still wanted to keep my supply up and ended up pumping and throwing - I know how much it hurt to throw 30 to 40 ounces of pumped milk each day while my children would refuse to drink that nasty smellling formula. All this while, the doctors kept telling me to stop eating most of the food that I eat because they were making my children gassy until all that I was left with eating was rice, green beans sauteed in a little oil and chayote squash cooked with mung beans every single day for 3 months! There was not even a gaurantee that I could go back to feeding them myself if they didn't stop the symptoms. Once I started work at 6 weeks, there were other challenges. My employer fortunately is one of the few that have made provisions for breastfeeding moms (and deserves a kudos for taking these steps) - our sites are fully equipped with rooms that have pump bases and refrigerators and access to support groups to connect to other working and breastfeeding mothers. However, when you go back to work after a baby, you are already aware that people are watching how much you let that affect your work. When you take 15 (and sometimes 30 minutes) every 3 hours to pump to keep up supply and baby's needs, there is a ton of guilt associated with that. That of course is my problem to deal with because at the end of the day, I was lucky that my employer had provided the facilities and once they do that, they are aware of the time spent with the activity. I however know other women that have not had that luxury - some of them have actually used a restroom and a hand pump and tried to relieve painful mastitis because there was nowhere for them to pump! Employers also do not take kindly to a woman that has just come back from a 6 week "vacation" (a lot of single guys would ask me when I was going off on "vacation" to have my baby:)) taking off what would amount to a hour of each day trying to pump milk to keep up breastfeeding. The other aspect that needs mentioning are lactating consultants. While what they do is laudable and they do help so many women with supply and lactating issues, many of them come across very strongly and refuse to consider the possibility that mom is actually trying hard but baby just will not drink. One woman told me how much the lc blamed her for not trying hard enough that she ended up thinking she was committing nothing short of a crime by switching to formula. The "grandmother" factor is very strong too. My children were advised not to have any solids till they were 6 months old and to be fed exclusively on either breastmilk or formula during that time. I met a woman on the flight back from India who was shocked that any one would consider "starving" the baby that way (and she was'nt a grandmother to be sure - she had a baby girl 4 months older than my son at that time!). It was quite annoying to listen to someone tell me I was starving my children after all the trouble I went through to stay off dairy just to be able to breastfeed them. And ofcourse the numerous people around that will jump up and say that baby is crying so much because mother probably doesn't have enough milk? Or to be made to feed the baby within half an hour of feeding because baby was making sucking motions with his mouth in his sleep which can only be interpreted as hunger again? No wonder women find it hard to stick to exclusively breastfeeding their baby, with all the pressures they face today. The benefits are many, I believe in them tremendously. However, like the right to choose, I do believe this is one issue that is a mom's right to choose and she should be allowed to make that choice without society blaming her for being a bad mother or predicting doom for baby.

PS: Since I last wrote this, I came across an article here detailing that President Obama has signed into that it is mandatory for companies with more that 50 employees to provide a private, secluded area for mothers to safely express breastmilk. Awesome!

Let there be a decree...

..that guys with a serious case of foot-in-mouth disease not go anywhere near me, not within a mile, not within a 100 miles.
So I see this guy-I-knew-from-way-back-when yesterday in the elevator. After a few seconds of pc, he looks at me excitedly and says "So are you having a baby?" I feel my smile freeze and begin to crack on my face as I say "No". So guy with the dreaded (for me) f-i-m says "Oh, so did you just recently have your baby?". Now my cheeks and my whole face are cracking to the point of falling off and just to be spiteful (I refuse to be kind to people that just keep shoving that foot deeper inside with each sentence), I say "Actually my last baby is four years old". He flees from there.
Oh well, some shirts just need to be retired :(
And some guys too.

"Hip"ocrisy

So some think it's hip to claim they don't believe in astrology, laugh, poke fun and in general, treat the people that believe feel like they still live in the trees. And then turn around and talk about their Zodiac signs!
Either you believe in the stars, or you don't!

Interesting how ...

...women take pains to ensure no baby sounds are heard on the phone when taking meetings from home, while many men couldn't care less to do the same. Wonder why.

TV dilemma

We all face this dilemma with our kids when they watch tv. What content is acceptable and what is not? With parents of my kids' friends, I have seen views run the gamut, from tv watching that is practically non-existent to parents that believe that their kids that can watch almost everything that they watch. I fall into the category where everything they watch is screened so only PG movies, mythological cartoons and sometimes the News are allowed. So be warned, this is going to be a very biased post. And this post mostly will reference Indian movies where the ratings are questionable at best and are ofcourse, rarely followed.
Early when my older boy was a baby, I came across a parent that allowed their daughter to watch "Gilli" once a day atleast, she loved it that much. When I asked if they did not think the violence was too much, their response was "If we protect them too much, they are going to be shocked when they finally understand reality. The more they watch, the more it desensitizes them so there is no shock factor." I have since met many parents that feel the same way. I wonder though, what this reality they talk about is. Is real ife as violent as movies suggest they are? Are all police officers as corrupt or all politicians mass murderers? Even assuming they are, why would a 5 year old need to learn that reality, when in our daily lives, we rarely have to face the trials and tribulations most heroes and heroines on our silver screens face in their movies ? I don't know what the stats are about the results of childhood exposure to violence in media, but I have a theory - desensitizing kids to violence leads us to become indifferent people, indifferent to very real issues in the world where women and children are raped and people are dying of different causes. I feel that it breeds a community of people who believe that we live in a broken system, in a constant feeling of helplessness about their ability to do anything to change. I am not saying that the system is perfect, far from it. However, ask people and their perceptions far exceed reality. People essentially think they live in a system where they cannot help others because they will be penalized for it.
Now here's the killer (no pun intended)- many of the same parents that allow their children to watch gruesome murder scenes (ala Anniyan) shy away from allowing their kids to watch two people kiss on TV. THe channel is changed in a hurry or the kids are distracted quickly or at the very least, there is a very uncomfortable silence. Sex is more corrupting than gruesome violence apparently!
Ends on a laugh, shaking head.

Tis' love!

I am in love again! Or so it feels like. I started the violin recently and it feels like a new lover, forever creeping into my thoughts when I least expect it. I wake up and my first excited thought is "Yay! I can't wait to play my violin". I rush through my day, cook, clean and head to work and all the while, at the edge of my mind is this picture of my violin, titillating me, beckoning me. I wait impatiently to head back home from work, much like the school girl waits for the bell to ring that she may catch a glimpse of the boy she has been crushing on. I pick my kids up and sigh! I can't get to my violin immediately. There is homework to be done, food to be fed, dishes to be done, bath time, bedtime and all the while, I see it from the corner of my eye. It is a siren, this violin - there has been much agonizing over starting a class "I have kids, I work full time, blah blah blah, I really need to make the time to practice " All my arguments flew out of the window when I held it in my hands, produced that first note (which BTW, is still the only note I produce but I thrill as if I played a complete concerto flawlessly), felt that solid strength in my hands, the thrum of the bow sliding on the strings. This feels like that first flush of love, where all I want to do is sit with the violin and play endlessly (thank God I don't have the time to do that or I am going to bore people around me senseless with that one note "Sa"). Will it last, this love affair of ours? Are we going to grow old togther, my violin and I? Or is our love going to die a silent death, unnurtured after the initial burst of passion is spent? Only time will tell...

Top 5 musical memories

I had to do this - I have been listening to some old songs lately and they trigger off memories long forgotten but very dear.
1. This one - Kissa Hum Likhenge, takes me straight to the fall of '98, when I was a brand new arrival in America, striking it out all on my own with a few hundred dollars to my name and never happier. I made some great new friends, had a blast of a reunion with my old, very dear friends and fell in love. It all seems coated in pink, lots of laughter, endless cups of coffee on college campus, late night movies and late night walks, all topped off by a really fun New Year's night!
2. Love Story - sigh!!! Like this song needs to remind me of anything at all to be special, but it does. Memories of that first love, my girlishly adolescent first crush, the shiny eyes, the anticipation, the dissection of every word, every look, the mooning, the sheer fun of it all. Oh to be fourteen again and in love...
3. Sindu Nadiyin Isai - Ah Bharathiyar! and to hear it, I only hear my parents, singing in duet on full moon nights, when we traditionally picknicked late into the night on our terrace. Stomachs replete, hearts even more so, contently dozing off on mats and listening to their voices blend in and out, weaving, dancing, the sounds of the ocean accompanying....ah, home!
4. Strings (Utho Beta Aankhen Kholo, Sar Kiya Yeh Pahar) - Okay, so this one is completely special. Lots of songs bring me back here, to this house in Chidambaram that was tucked away in a corner of the street. I made the best friendships of my life here, laughed a lot, cried some and had some of the best times of my life here. Cheers to you guys for all of those moments!
5. Satrangi Re from Dil se - This totally takes me back to this hike a group of us went to ages ago. Lonely place (like we were the only people around for miles and miles), lots of snow, lots of scary talk and one of the guys ( you know who you are) could not stop singing "Mujhe Maut ki godh mein sone dee...." loudly. Quite scary and all...

There are tons of songs like this that transport me back to certain places and people. Can you share with me some of yours?

You know you are in for a difficult time ahead when ...

...your 3 year old and 5 year old complain about the workload in their Montessori education school and their favorite part of their school day is the time when they play in the playground.

Confused?

THis is a full blown rant - consider yourself warned! As a disclaimer, I have to add that I love both India and America for different reasons so there is no offense meant to either country here. The insults are all to people. I come from India, I moved here, it was my choice. No one pulled me by the nose and forced me to move. I chose to move. I have chosen to stay. I cannot say that I have made my peace with the choice to stay and indeed might never. There is always that call I can hear - of family and the familiar, that call which I tamp down with every ounce of reasoning that I can have. I am more or less happy with the choice I have made, that call not withstanding. But some, some that I come across, they are whom I get upset with. These people, who like me, have made a choice. They chose to move here, they have chosen to make a life here. This country has been nothing but good to them. They continue to live their life here and they know they have it good here. Then why, why would they keep denigrating every single aspect of life here ? THe claims are numerous "In India, things are much better" " Schools are much better in India - there is no standard to the education here, very low". "The doctors are so bad here, they don't treat you at all" "Children learn so much more in India in the arts". AND then some that have moved here and live here and work here and who evidently see themselves as somehow morally superior to "these Americans" (One gem when there was a report of a child rapist caught - "These americans! Such problems are found only here" -maybe I shouldn't even be wasting my breath ranting about ignorant people). Let's clearly forget the fact that they themselves have been citizens of this country for a year or so and have processed green cards for relatives far and near. First off, to people like this, I would like to say - Just leave! Take your attitude and your angst and leave - leave if you find the school system that bad, the doctors that difficult. No one forces you to stay, except maybe your greed for the dollar and the value it translates to in rupees. Go if you think your children will have a bad future - what else do you earn for? If you choose to stay despite that, what does that say about you? And if you feel morally superior, go ahead - leave, leave to where morals are seemingly higher! You only needed a visa to get out of where you feel things are clearly superior, that visa for which you stood in a hot, blazing sun for hours, overnight even, for which you sweated and slogged through exams and tests, to leave a country that you feel is clearly superior. India will welcome that which is hers willingly, so go! And if you do CHOOSE not to, look within yourself and stop the whining! There are good things and bad in both places - it's hard to make a choice. Your inaction is a choice by itself, so please! recognize that by not moving back, you have chosen to stay and atleast give your adopted country and it's people the credit they deserve. Recognize that you are now one of them, any comments you make are directed no longer at a "them" but at yourself. We all of us will continue to value where we came from, to not do so is a travesty. However, to recognize that where we are now is a very good place to be in no way denigrates where you came from or reflects poorly on you.

what the future brings ...

I went to a birthday party today - a friend of my son's whose family has lived in this state for a couple of generations. The party rang with the childrens' laughter at the antics of their cousins, squeals of delight at seeing a favorite aunt, exclamations of "Look how much he has grown in just a week!" and it all left me aching with want. To have the kind of family and roots in the place I live in. To see my children visit with their aunts and uncles every other week, to go to a "thottil" of my cousin's daughter or an "upanayanam" of my nephew. On the heels of those pangs settled in the realization that that was a lifestyle for the previous generation in India, atleast in my family. All the get-togethers and dos that were celebrated for anniversaries and birthdays, births celebrated by visiting each other - all of these were for that generation, that priviledged one with many siblings, all of them that worked and lived in the same city. For us, we have the better education, the supposedly better life, but one sibling or none. We are the ones that have moved away, away to a land, scattered around the world, where we make do with friends in place of family. We meet our parents once a year or once in two years, birthday parties are no longer small family gatherings, but big to dos in some party place, the children know their aunts and uncles from pictures and phone calls and video cameras. I have this - the memories of those gatherings, grew up rooted in that system with the aunts and the uncles and the grand parents and great uncles and the great aunts. Will my children miss these when they are adults or will the adage "they cannot miss what they did not know" apply to them?

My Blyton memories

Growing up, my mother's rule was that "kadha pusthakams" were meant for the holidays - this rule was enforced after she caught me reading with a novel hidden inside my English Reader's Read book back when I was in the first standard. Before that, she had caught a book hidden in my backpack that I would sneak in to read while in class. So the rules were enforced and I would wait and wait and endure the long exams and the even longer bus ride from school to home on that last day of school. I would forgo the cake and the "Coca Cola" that school would give out as summer going away treats so I could be the first on the bus and hop impatiently from one foot to the other while the driver stopped (it would seem!) for 5 minutes at every stop. I would ask my bus driver to drop me off at the library on the last day and arrive home laden with atleast a dozen books. Most of these would be Enid Blytons. Sitting atop the neem tree outside our house, cool ocean breeze whipping my body, vadu manga in my hand, I could not believe the creatures she wove - elves and pixies, Big Ears and goblins and fairies and toadstools and toys that came alive in the nights, , toyland and golliwogs, tables that flew and magic spells and ointments and cats that sang and parrots that spoke, Moon-Face and Silky and old Sauceapan Man and Watzisname, children that took out boats into the sea and stayed in caves and tents, children that visited faraway lands and had friends in circuses and farms that made yellow butter . I remember her 8'o clock tales and the nine'o clock tales - tales of naughty Amelia Jane and tales of the Magic Faraway Tree, enormous in size and enormous in my memory. The Famous Fives and The Secret Sevens I used to read in the middle of the night, hiding under my blankets with a torch for my light, long after lights out had been ordered. Her food descriptions always set my tongue tingling, her "eating sardines out of the tin" and the "potatoes baked in their jackets with butter melting on them" always made me long for them and her description of the moors and the seas desperately made me wish I lived in Scotland. I fancied myself a detective after reading the different adventures of the Adventurous Four and wanted to go to a boarding school when I read Mallory Towers and St. Claires. Who could put down the Sea of Adventure or the River of Adventure and who could help but be enthralled as the 4 children and their irascible parrot dodged villains and waterfalls? Not I.
I have a copy of the Magic Faraway Tree and read it to my sons now. I still love the adventures but grown up and mature that I am now, I see in the book faults that my heart stops at finding - sexism is rampant in her books, although I think that is more a product of the times she lived in - when a man had his place and a woman hers. When I read the parts where the boys help out in the garden with the heavy work and the girls cook, keep house and empty closets for visiting cousins, I have to make an effort not to put the book away because I know that my sons when they grow up, will not remember these pages about the roles of men and women, but their heads will be filled with those enchanted lands above the cloud - that is what will stay with them. I dream of lands like that even now, where everything is right and good and fair and has ice-cream and cake for everyone, where the houses are made of gingerbread and everyone can have a party all the time. And for the lands where things are not so right? I can find a table, invert it, rub a spell and say "Fly away Home!", just like in her books.

Err...somebody tell me why

I think the outrage of the Mumbai attacks is a backdrop for more and more outrageous behaviour everywhere. Some Deepak somebody came on FOX News last night and spoke about understanding the reasons that drive people to terrorism. Huh? Someone, anyone, please tell me why I have to try to understand where the terrorists came from, what drove them to commit these acts, what I and others of my ilk might have ever done in this life and in my previous lives that drove them to this? Why the flying heck should I give a damn what makes them tick? Am I supposed to arrive at the conclusion that it's my fault for being attacked? (hey, it could have been me, it could have been any of you, it could have happened anywhere). Wait a minute, isn't that what abusive people generally do? Blame the victim? Ah, I get it, so these terrorist guys somehow felt disenfranchised and that is everyone else's fault, so they killed everyone else? Why should I try to understand their convoluted minds? Also, someone feels disenfranchised and left out by the general society around them, so they take a gun, shoot people midlessly, strap a bomb and take out hundreds, they say we other people have taken away some rights of theirs, so it's okay for them to take away our right to life? I think it's time people stopped analyzing terrorism to pieces and expect some hard action on the places and people that harbor such terrorists. Who do we start pandering to? WHich religion's fanatics do we expect to satisy? Let's face it - where there is religion and faith, there is fanaticisim and we cannot hope to try to please everyone at every point of time. People have to take civic responsibility in demanding that their governments stop arm chair politics (strange - I used to reserve that for the thathas and mamas back in the 80s, seems that's all our politicians do too, spout off nonsense from their extra security detail surrounded armchairs) and protect the people they have sworn to protect.

How far have we come, really?

I wrote a post a few days back about career choices and your daughters and it got me thinking about other issues that parents of daughters might confront. Now, when I was growing up, marriage was still the destination for all girls growing up and my parents worked very hard to provide for their daughters' wedding in addition to a multitude of education costs. The wedding was still considered to be one of their biggest expenditures and whenever my parents bought jewelry, I could see the wheels turning in their heads, calculating the total gold each time. They strived to be in all respects equal opportunity parents but in some part of them, the old Indian fears gnawed at them and the pressure was definitely on to save for our future. I do know that most boys' parents of the same generation did not feel the same pressure. When it came to paying money to get into an engineering college for me, there were people who cautioned my dad not to overspend as ultimately, I was going to get married anyway and to save for that big event instead of spending on this. One person even told my father that he would not have thrown his money away to send his daughter to an engineering college.
My question is this - do parents of daughters today, Indian parents especially, feel any of the same stresses that my parents and others of their generation felt? Are they compelled to save for a wedding nowadays (in any form, jewelry or otherwise)? I am fairly confident that a vast majority of parents will treat their children the same when it comes to education. When it comes to personal safety, I think it is parents of boys that have to think differently with awareness of abuses and pedophilia growing. So I think it comes down to this then - while demanded dowries are more and more a thing of the past, do parents still feel like they need to give a large trousseau, say 10 years or 20 years down the line? Are they saving especially for that? It is true today too that the cost of a traditional Indian wedding is many lakhs of rupees and the brunt of it is borne by the girl's family - is that going to be an expectation of future generations that the boy's family MUST spend equally? I am curious how this will all unfold in the future...

What of the children?

I came across this horrifying report here - A 13 year old Somali girl was raped, raped by 3 men and then stoned to death for daring to report it - stoned to death on adultery charges. And the 3 men, no the three animals? Err....there is no mention of them in any media report.
I am alternatively aghast and appalled that something like this happened and that there is not more of a hue and cry about it. This incident (the stoning) happened with about a thousand spectators. Not one of them stepped forward to question the verdict or stop the stoning. One is left to imagine that the stones were thrown by these very people, watching and thirsting for the blood of a child.
I cannot get my head around this whole incident - a 13 year old was raped. It happens in the world, yes, I know. Perverts exist, I know. And yes, blaming the victim is the most common form of defense, I know that too. But do these men have to subjugate a small 13 year old and rape her to feel all powerful and invincible? If our society cannot offer it's best protection to shield small children from atrocities like this, what is the point of going to war to defend the country? What, at the end of the day are we protecting? And stoning to death this small child, who has already suffered unimaginable trauma? Shame on you, Somalia! Shame on you, world! Shame on every one of us that has read this and chosen to move on, chosen not to speak up about this. I feel ashamed in the name of all womanhood and motherhood, as every woman and mother should. My heart goes out to her family who not only have to live with her horrific death but also with the shame of the slur on her name. Asking for justice is clearly not an option it looks like, so the best we can do is pray for them.