When Yaya was little, every afternoon she and I used to paint. It started with magic painting books. ( you apply water with a paint brush and the colours used to appear magically. http://www.amazon.co.uk/A4-Magic-Painting-Book/dp/1851283609) and as she grew older, we progressed to crayons, colour pencils and water colours.

Up until grade 7, she said she wanted to be an artist and live in Venice. I am not the kind of the parent who believe that my child must do either Medicine or Engineering. I believe they really should do what makes them happy. Venice is a really nice place to live and if my child chose to live there, all the better for me. I can make frequent trips to Venice ! I also told her that most artists don’t make much money while they are alive and that is still ok, so long as she can eat stale bread and cheese. ( Yes, she did roll her eyes)

I didn’t hear much about becoming an artist once she joined high school. Every now and then she would come to me and ask “Mom, what should I do when I grow up?” and my answer has always been “whatever you want, the world is yours to conquer” which often elicited the response ” you are of no help” and few more eye rolling.

Honestly, I would have liked her to be in the foreign services. She loves to travel, speaks a lot of languages and is very strong willed and gets what she wants. But that is my opinion and I prefer to keep it to myself.

Yesterday she came to me and told me ” Mom, I think I want to do environmental law ”

It was something totally unexpected. I didn’t even think she wanted to do law.

I am happy that she is thinking about what she wants to do and is free of pressure from her parents. Every child deserves that freedom.

I was invited to a night of celebrating  Parsee music and good food at a friend’s place yesterday.

I was the only Non Parsee, but I didn’t feel out of place at all, for the food was very similar to what you find in North India. There were Biriyani, pulao, meat curry, aubergine barta and raita. The only thing that I have never tried until yesterday was the Parsee version of ice cream. Vanila ice cream blended with crushed pistachios, saffron and rose water. Dinner was followed by cardamom chai.

After dinner, music and dancing started. My friend’s 74 year old mother in law did the shoulder shimmying ( belly dance step) !

But what impressed me the most was a 7 year old boy. He played an instrument called Ney Anban ( Iranian version of bag pipe). It felt like he was breathing music. After a while, he decided to play Iranian Santoor, then he joined others and played Tabla. He knew to play every single musical instrument that was there. He knew all the old songs, but he has never been to Iran.

Every single male attendee knew to play a musical instrument and the women sang and danced. None of them have had formal lessons in music or dance, but because they meet often, their children automatically learn all these.

When I had my children, I wanted to pass on my heritage to them. The only things I could have done was to send them for Malayalam lessons, or dance lessons or perhaps Karnatic music lessons. I often had my cousins and friends over for dinner when I was living in Malaysia. There was no music and there was no question of dancing.. Everyone sat around in groups, talked (bitched), ate and went home.

I wish I had something to pass on to my children..

My children love to keep  some of their childhood treasures for their children. Yaya kept all the special books ( classics) I bought her. My son kept entire collection of Pokémon Gameboy games and baby has so much junk including a calling card from spaghetti factory Seattle !!

I don’t have anything from my childhood to give my children ( not even photos) and the only thing I can share with them are my memories. My children ask the most oddest questions sometimes and yesterday baby asked me “Mom, what is the one thing you used often as a child and that we will never use?”

(That question is open to all of you, please leave a comment.)

As you can see, it really was a tough question. I thought of my first ‘foreign’ pencil case. It was bulky, made of plastic and the cover was filled with sponge and had magnets on it. I spent hours opening and closing the pencil case cover. But my children too have various types of pencil cases and still use them.

I went through all the things I used and couldn’t find something that my children never used. There had to be something, I was sure of it, after all Technology has advanced so much and a lot of things have become obsolete. Eventually I found one thing.

It is a thing that I don’t know the name in English or Malayalam.

The first time I saw this thingy was when my father brought his office files home. His office files were a mess with paper falling out and sticking out of the folder, making it a really ugly sight. But someone had tried to hold it all together with the nameless thing..A small piece of orange and red twine with a metal piece on either end.

The last time I used that thing was for my final MBBS exam. All the additional answer sheets had to be tied to the original answer sheet. I had to tie my answer sheets with a kurukkettu ( knot that can’t be undone), so no one will swap my answer sheets.

I have not seen that thingy since I left India and even after explaining to my children, they still don’t get it. They think a stapler would work very well. Little do they know, sometimes in life we all need that thing..to hold all the irregular, out of shape things together, that an ordinary staple will not do..

This was the first Malayalam song I learned. My father taught me the song. Even to this day, I feel so liberated every time I say “ponal pokattum Poda”

Today, walk with me through the streets of Kottayam.

The year was 1984, a very important year, I was in the 10th Std, my future dependent on the outcome of how well I did that year. It was  like one of those rocket fire crackers you place in the old Limca bottle and waiting to light it, having no idea where the rocket is heading or if there is going to be a beautiful show of sparkling lights..or if it was going to be dud.

I just wanted to score more marks than my oldest sister, a very difficult task because my sister is incredibly intelligent while I was deaf, dumb and blind. Yet, there was still a possibility albeit tiny that if I really worked hard, I might just get what I want.

Oh, yeah, I forgot, we were supposed to walk through the streets of Kottayam. It was raining that morning and the first thing I did was to check the Manorama paper, to see if the education minister postponed school reopening for few more days due to kala varsha keduthi.. ( one of those beautiful Malayalam word that just can’t be translated to English without losing the meaning). Of course, I was really excited to go back to school, but few more days of freedom wasn’t going to harm anyone, was it? After all, school was not going anywhere. Sadly the minister was not very magnanimous.

My school bag was a sling bag made of brown corduroy material that was in its deathbed and the shoe repair guy sitting in front of Seematti tried his level best to fix it. I used to carry the bag with the strap across my chest, till one vayum nokki from CMS college, pointed to my boobs and asked me, ” percentage ano?”

As I left home that morning, my oldest sister asked me ” motta kachodam thudangan pattuvo?” ( Will you score enough zeros ( mottas = eggs)  to start selling eggs). I glared at her, hoping my eyes could send forth fire. I never  understood why all the mythical characters had such abilities and I wasn’t given the same. I could have solved all my life’s troubles if I could incinerate everyone who bugged me.

I know we still haven’t started the walk. There are many little lanes that I had to walk, till I reached the road we are going to walk today. Normal people will take the shortest route. But I am not normal, so I hiked up to top of the 70 feet road ( Shasthri road) and then walked down. The street was full of kids and parents. Some going to the school near MT seminary ( can’t remember the name) and most heading to MT seminary. That was the year, I had decided to do no Vayum nottam,  So, I didn’t. I looked down and walked.

 I loved walking in the rain. Every now and then, I stopped walking and looked around. If there was no one near me, I spinned the umbrella and watched the rain drops going on a merry go round. I also walked through every single puddle, knowing very well that my Bata sandals was built to last another century ( So Amma will not be mad at me for damaging the sandals) and that this was the last year of my life I will be able to do something that silly and not get in to trouble. With age came responsibility and respectable behaviour.

By the time I reached my school, I was soaking wet, my uniform skirt was painted with mud splatter and my school bag too didn’t fare better..But I was happy, because I knew, I could go places and do things I really wanted to do, if I believed in myself.

How far I have come, since that day..

Today, kids in Kerala will be going back to school and the Wheels of life goes on..

When I was in 3rd Std, my class teacher ran a competition for the best ‘good behaviour chart’. Everyone had to make the chart, which had the names of all my classmates and a column for good mark ( red  dots) and a column for bad mark. ( black dots). Amma made my chart for me. She cut flowers from old Christmas cards and decorated my chart and the teacher chose mine and I got the credit for something I didn’t do.

When baby was in grade 3, she had some project  that involved in making a poster. End of the term, parents were invited to the class to see the project..All the posters except one were very similar..stick figures, irregular writings with lots of spelling mistakes. But the one that was different..looked exactly like my good behaviour chart. It was picture perfect.

My son had a mechatronics project due this week. The past few weeks he has been asking me what he should make. I felt, it is his project and he should figure it out. He was really annoyed with me because I refused to help him and told me, I am a mean unhelpful mother.

This is where the dilemma I face is. Where do I step in? and When do I not help? He is coming to me for help because I am well read and can guide him, which is my job as a mother. But I don’t want to be like my mother..

I don’t know what he made for his project. He didn’t tell me because he is very annoyed with me. The marks he gets for the project will be part of his term report.

The feeling is should have, could have is bothering me.

I have been driving legally for more than 20 years and a few more years extra illegally. But I am now having to learn to drive again.

Few years ago, a blogger ( Upsilamba) wrote about how she got her drivers license. It was pretty hilarious.I can’t remember her blog ID and if she is still reading my blog, here is a big hello from me.

I found the blog. Yay 🙂

http://upsilaamba.blogspot.com.au/2006/07/paralleled.html

I had only been back in Malaysia for a month when I went for the driving license test. I didn’t know any of the road rules, but the examiner was a young dude and I flirted with him ( There, I said it) and much to the surprise of everyone who knew me, I passed the test and got my license.

I am a pretty good driver, if I may say so, except once in a while the men ( and women) in blue feel compelled to stop my car and give me a lecture and a ticket. I even managed to meet the local cop in Philly. My aunt told me a place called Downingtown is where I should look for a house if I am really keen to move to US ( quiet neighbourhood, good schools,  blah blah). So I thought I would check it out. As I got off the highway I missed the stop sign and didn’t see the cop car. Fortunately for me, there were two more stop signs further up the road that I saw and stopped. The cop was right behind me , checking to see if I would stop at those stop signs. After the third one, he flashed the lights, pulled me over, checked my Aussie license and told me “long way from home” and I did my best Aussie accent and told him “yeah mate, righto”  The traitors ( aka my children) were laughing so much that I thought the cop must have wondered which mental hospital we escaped from. Anyway, he was a nice chap and didn’t give me a ticket because I did stop at the two stop signs and genuinely didn’t see the first one. ( I didn’t see the first one, because there was an Italian restaurant on the left side and few super bikes were parked in front !)

As I was saying, I am a pretty good driver ( most of the time). But not anymore. Yaya is sitting for learner’s permit test next month ( bloody hell, how fast time flew) and is reading about all the laws.

Yesterday, when I took her to the library which is 8 km from my home, she told me

“mom, you didn’t stop at the stop sign completely”

” you are driving very close to the car in front, you must keep 3 seconds gap minimum”

“Mom, yellow light means slow down and stop, not drive faster”

” Mom, you didn’t put the indicator when you were at the roundabout”

And to think, that I will have to go through all of these 2 more times when the younger two starts driving.. Lovely.

As my children grew older, I have been extremely careful with their diet and lifestyle. I didn’t want them to have pimples, so I stopped making deep fried foods ( good bye samosa) added a lot more fresh fruit and vegetables in their diet.

I am not much in to beauty products, but I am a fan of facial wash and taught my children to wash their face as soon as they get back home from school.

Yaya doesn’t use any makeup. She doesn’t have to. She has flawless skin and is very pretty. ( of course all mothers say the same about their children ) and I thought I did well..

She comes with me for grocery shopping and the past few weeks, she has been a pain in the posterior. She insists on reading the nutrition facts on every thing we buy and salt and fat are our current enemies.

First she banned my favourite salt and vinegar chips.  Too much salt is not good for you, she said.

Then it was the crackers my son loves.. again salt and fat content. She made me buy water crackers, don’t ask what it is, it taste terrible and my son refused to eat it.

Last week, it was the Philadelphia cream cheese’s turn to leave my home. Original has been banished from my kitchen and we now have the extremely low fat version that doesn’t taste anything like  cream cheese.

This morning, she has declared that she is going to be a vegetarian. She believes in ethical treatment of animals.. It was a perfect day to start your life as a vegetarian.. especially because I made Hainanese chicken rice for lunch and she loves it. So she  opted to differ being a vegetarian for another day.

I have tried to explain to her that body needs fat, there is no way you can live by not eating fat. I also explained to her how boring her life would be if she is going to be a vegetarian. I know, because I am a vegetarian and often starve whenever I have to attend formal functions. When everyone gets a beautiful rump steak or grilled salmon from Tasmania, I get three shoots of aged asparagus that taste like the sole of an old leather boots as a main course…Alas, no luck. Every magazine she reads there are articles after articles that claim food as the biggest threat to human health. Children like Yaya believes what the media says.

I am not sure how long this denial state is going to last..I miss my salt and vinegar chips. ( I know I am the mom here and I should be able to buy the chips if I really wanted, but she is learning to be assertive and she really cares for me, so I am hoping that she will see the light at the end of the tunnel and understand that not everything is bad for you)