Never say Never..

My oldest memory of my aunt is the time I visited my grandparent’s home. I must have been 3 + years old. She wore a sleeveless blouse with the saree. Her earrings were so huge, it almost touched her shoulder, she also wore matching bangles but that is not all, she wore extremely ‘high’ heels and when she walked, the heels clanked tuck tuck on the floor and the earrings jingled and swayed in tune. My mother on the other hand wore Bata slippers, cream blouse with a crappy old saree. It was such a contrast and my aunt’s image was permanently stored in my brain. Over the years, I associated her with famous Hindi Actress of that time. She was slender, pretty and carried herself well.

Then my aunt got married and had kids. I remember the time after she gave birth to her youngest, my grandmother wanted her to do the exercise to strengthen the tummy muscles and she refused saying “Now that I am a mother who cares how I look?” I was 12 then and I remember feeling disappointed that my aunt lost the zest for living.

But things changed  on the day my aunt turned 40. She declared on that day that, she will no longer eat anything sweet and bought artificial sweeteners because they were healthier than sugar.. She had a new haircut. She started to wear  high heels again.  She tried one diet after another, went for morning walk and came home and ate like a pig,   the weight remained and the heels didn’t last.

I adore my aunt, but I promised I will never be like her. I have never dieted and have no intention of dieting. Last weekend, when I went for my grocery shopping, I stopped in front of the baking aisle. I needed to buy Sugar. I noticed the artificial sweeteners on the rack.. I am well read and my biochemistry is pretty strong, yet the packet of stevia called out to me. It was so compelling that I bought it. I don’t even know why. I eat healthy food all the time, yet there is a part of me that wants to make sure that I will go the extra mile and eat more healthier food. I only consume one cup of tea each morning and I don’t need to cut the sugar..but it still I am compelled to do so. It is like there is an inner voice that is at odds with aging..

The trouble being a multilingual is that, sometimes you are stuck with words that makes so much sense in one language, but can’t be translated to English without losing the feelings elicited when you hear the word. negalikkanda is a word my mom used quiet often.

If I got the highest marks for Microbiology and went home and told Amma “Ma, I got the highest mark for Micro” She never smiled and said Congrats. She said “negalikkanda” (don’t you dare boast)

It meant that getting the highest marks for Micro wasn’t a big deal and I mustn’t boast, for I could lose everything tomorrow..there is something called Divine retribution. According to her theory, it was God who gave me the chance to get the highest mark ( often by helping me remember all that I studied and making the teachers give me the questions that I could answer well, therefor score the highest mark.) and if I boasted, then God could get angry with me and make me fail the next exam..and the one after that..so I would learn a lesson that I am nothing but the clay in God’s hands and he made me what I am. But in my case, I knew how hard I worked, how many hours I kept awake at night reading and revising and how determined I was to get the highest marks. But my mother’s words have always remained in my soul like a little thorn that constantly inflict tiny jabs of fear. Especially because I don’t follow the normal mallu code of conduct.

I walked away from my family, my children have no contact with anyone in my family, I raise them as atheist, I haven’t taught them any Indian values and they do not even identify themselves as Indians.

Couple of weeks ago, Yaya told me that she spend more time with her friend’s grandmother than with her own. ( She goes to her friend’s  grandmother’s house in Sydney every year and spend few  weeks with her). I walked away from my family, not to keep a score, but to save my children from further harm..But I am terrified that depriving them of a solid family is a mistake. Every time my children come to me and tell me that they won the first prize or was chosen to represent the school, I smile and tell them how proud I am..and I can hear my mother’s voice in my head “negalinkkanda”

I don’t really like to read short stories because of the way most short stories end. The ending makes me feel very unsettled. I spend  considerable amount of time trying to imagine how the story would pan out, after the author left me hanging in a cloud of suspense and drama.

The first collection of short stories I read would be A quiver full of arrows by Jeffrey Archer. I borrowed the book from the lending library near my home ( Bangalore) I can see the road and the library in my mind. I can even see the billboard across the road with the sign “Hashish to Ashes, Dust to Dust, Say no to drugs”. But I can’t remember the name of the road. it was a major road and the library was at the junction of woods street and the major road. ( If anyone knows what I am talking about, do leave a comment.. It bothers me terribly when I can’t remember something). There was an ice cream parlour two shops from the library. If I saved the bus fare by walking ( abt 45 minutes one way), then I used to bus fare money and bought Kulfi from the ice cream shop and ate the kulfi while reading the book. I had only started to read books seriously around that time and Jeffrey Archer was/is one of my favourite author. I was so excited to get another book written by him. I didn’t even buy Kulfi that day and I took the bus back home, so I could sit quietly in my room and read the book. I was so disappointed that the book I thought was another master piece was  nothing but a collection of short stories.

I do try my darnedest to stay away from short stories !

My friends know my love for books and when they come over, instead of bringing me a bottle of wine ( for my health, they say), they buy me books. The Gurkha’s daughter stories by Prajwal Parajuly was given to me as a gift last weekend. I feel terribly guilty if I don’t read a book given as a gift, it feels like I have betrayed the gift giver, especially because the gift giver has painstakingly picked a book from Indian Subcontinent, knowing how much I love all things Indian..

I know nothing about Prajwal Parajuly..I read the book last night and very rarely an author can make me travel to a different world..I could almost see Kali and her cleft lip and money inside the Liv 52 bottle.I hoped Kali wouldn’t find her way to the red light streets of Mumbai..If an author could make me feel those emotions..then to me, he is the best of the best.

I have absolutely enjoyed reading the book.

If I could use a word to describe me, apart from the usual words like stubborn, determined, pain in the posterior etc, it would be ‘fiercely independent’, I wasn’t always independent, I was your typical country mouse. I didn’t even know to comb my own hair. Amma used to do that everyday and that particular day she wasn’t home and I had to get ready for Sunday school. There was no way I could miss the Sunday school because I was competing with kaithamukkiley kazhutha ( that was his nick name) for the ‘best attendance’ record to win the first prize ( 30 Rs gift voucher to spend at Ladies Corner shop) Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to comb and tie my hair. Before leaving home, Amma had told my sister to help me comb and tie my hair, but she felt I was old enough to do the deed and refused. I couldn’t bear the thought of kathamukkiley kazhutha winning the price, and with tears streaming down my cheeks mostly because I was betrayed by my own sister, I walked to Aunty Reena’s house with my comb and got her to help me. I was 12 years old. ( Aunty Reena obviously wasn’t my mother and didn’t know that my hair is silky smooth and unless you tie it very tightly, gravity will work on the hair tie !! which it did, but fortunately I was already at the church when it happened and I did a Justin Bieber style flick and survived the disaster)

I have often wondered why my mother never told me to comb my own hair? Of course, I was deaf and dumb and blind and useless.. But still, at 12 years of age, I should at least know to comb my own hair. No?

I did learn to comb my own hair  after that day and it was the beginning of learning to be independent.

Over the years I learned that I could never depend on my family and I felt if my family won’t help me, then why should my friends help me? I know it sounds really silly, but I find it very difficult to ask for help. I do everything that needs to be done. But sometimes, it is not easy..

Yesterday, Yaya had to attend a school program in CBD ( central Business district)that finished at 9.30 PM. I live 35 minutes drive  from the CBD. I can’t leave the younger two at home and go and get Yaya. Both are tired after their basketball match and 9.30 pm is already beyond their bedtime, not including the time it takes to get back home.. At times like this, I do wish if only I had someone to help me. but I don’t have anyone.

At about 7 pm, a friend whose daughter also was attending the same program called to say that she will pick both the girls and drop mine home. She knows I am alone and decided to step in even if it meant that she will end up driving an extra 30 minutes back and forth. Although she offered to drop my daughter home, I felt it isn’t right to make her drive all the way to my house and instead drove to her house and got Yaya saving her the drive to my house. When I gave birth to my son, my sister younger to me lived 10 minutes drive from my home, not once she came home to see me or the baby or called to ask if I need any help..

Sometimes, family will fail you over and over, but then you meet strangers who go the extra mile for you..

It is so hard to say goodbye and especially to the one I never thought I would have to.

I remember clearly the day I met you 2 years ago, It was mother’s day weekend..I was the happiest person on earth that day because  becoming a mother was the best gift I ever received in my life and each mother’s day, I celebrate the joy of being a mom. Then I found you….Ah ! the excitement of bringing something new to my ordinary life.

I must say, initially I thought, you were useless. I could never figure out how you worked and you were so different from my previous loves..But over the months, you became a part of me..you are a walking dictionary and you taught me so much. How can I ever forget words  ‘Salacious’, ‘paean’ etc

I think more than anything, I was grateful for the fact that you made it easier for me to stay in touch with my friends and family. You opened the doors of communication.

Each morning, I looked forward to spending time with you while I drank my earl grey..Every day there was something new to discover, something new to learn..

This morning, I felt useless without you..How can I ever live without you?

Now that I have to say goodbye to you for no faults of mine, I dedicate this song for you.

You are in my heart..in my soul..

Goodbye my iphone..

Reality shows have never been my cup of tea and I was even more convinced of their uselessness when the school PAC meeting was cancelled one fine Thursday evening because the PAC president didn’t want to miss the season finale of Survivor ! It was obvious that knowing who won the competition was much more important than the future of our children.

When my children were little, I wanted them to read and restricted their TV time and the TV restrictions were still in force when we came to Australia. Friends of my son told him many times that “your mother is weird” because I didn’t let my son watch Masterchef  and of course he wasn’t allowed to play MA games. His friends combined the two rules and told him Masterchef was classified under general category, so there is no real reason why my son shouldn’t watch it.

My reasons were pretty simple..Reality shows are controlled environment, where the producers manipulate human behaviour to suit the ratings. When you watch a movie, there is a story with a start and end and except you paying for the ticket, you don’t hold any control of the outcome of the movie. In a reality show the end is determined by making you believe that you hold the power to choose the winner by sending your vote !! And then the tears, the tantrums, the bitchiness, the attitude…I don’t see the reason why I must subject myself and my children to such atrocious behaviour that are now accepted as normal behaviour.

A very dear friend of mine didn’t miss a single episode of recent masterchef/or one of the cooking show because “apna” ( our own/Indian) person is a contestant and  just as my mother prayed for some dude in Kerala to win the idea star singer competition because he came from a poor family.

I am sure my son must have found it difficult to explain to his friends why he never watched masterchef or other reality shows..

Last Sunday, Yaya borrowed Truman show DVD from the library. I am not a fan of Jim Carrey, however this is one of my favourite movies and  I had hoped one day my children would watch it.

After the movie my son told me ” So this was the reason why you never let us watch reality shows eh?”

I smiled and gently nodded my head. ( But what I really wanted to do was scream “yes” and do a war dance, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment)

If my sisters saw Yaya today, they would certainly say that “Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree” and each of them would have found a bit of themselves in Yaya.

This morning, Yaya wore a tee shirt with the collar snipped off. Even after my kids were born, I could still wear my sister’s clothes, but I didn’t wear  my youngest sister’s tee shirts because she always snipped/chopped/ripped the collar and to me it looked pretty unsightly. If she wanted to remove the collar, she could have at least cut it off neatly, but No, she does such a bad job that the tee shirt looked like it was chewed by a rabid dog. The tee shirt Yaya wore this morning looked like it was chewed by a rabid dog without the collar and the edges all jagged. I can almost picture my youngest sister rolling on the floor and laughing because I used to get so mad at her for damaging perfectly fine tee shirts and now my own child is doing the same.

My oldest sister would have smiled too if she saw Yaya this morning. First of all, Yaya looks exactly like my sister and the way she wears all the accessories is ditto like my sister ( everything matches and she will not leave home unless everything is perfect)and like her, Yaya is a walking cloud of deodorant.

You can normally see my middle sister, when Yaya gets angry with me. She rolls her eyes just like my sister and things usually go downhill after that,because I can’t stop  laughing seeing how much she looks like my sister.

My oldest sister can’t cook. Now, I don’t believe that one can’t cook. I think it is more won’t than can’t. But the truth of the matter is, my sister will choose to  starve and die than to cook if it ever came to that. I have never eaten anything cooked by my sister. She eats out all the time and I worry about her when she is old and not able to go out for meal everyday.

As I mentioned before, Yaya looks exactly like my oldest sister and refused to cook when she was young. I remember once I had severe migraine and couldn’t cook and asked Yaya if she would make herself some noodles and she asked me to help her boil the water for her. The process involved filling the kettle and switching it on. She didn’t want to do that and it was the first time Yaya went to bed hungry.

When I became a mother, I had hoped to have a house like “little women” Where everyone was nice to each other, everyone helped each other and the house was filled with laughter and happiness. It took me a long time to accept the fact that a house like that can only happen in novels and in my house, for sure there was laughter and happiness, so were tears and angry outbursts and no one helped me with the chores. I did everything and it was a tiring job.

Every Saturday, my children have basket ball matches, one match in the morning and one at noon. Yaya works on Saturday from 9 till 12.30 and few weeks ago, I asked her if she would cook lunch. I have to be honest that I didn’t expect her to say “yes”. All I was doing was to badger her, hoping that one day she will get that cooking is not a major event, it is just a part of your life. I was surprised when I received a txt from her asking me ” What would you like me to make?” I thought of things she could cook quickly without having to use knives etc and being a natural born klutz, I was really scared that she will harm herself in the process of cutting an onion. But then I thought, she should learn to figure out what to cook looking at the ingredients we have and so I told her “make whatever you want”.

I imagined all sorts of events that could happen if Yaya entered my kitchen and decided to cook and I  planned all the things I must do if anything went wrong. I knew my elderly neighbour is home recuperating from the hip surgery, so I could call her in case of emergency. Cuts with knives, tell Yaya to use compress or raise the injured hand/fingers above the heart level..for burns I must ask Yaya to wash under running water  and for fire I hoped she will remember to drop and roll..etc etc.

Last Saturday, I came home to find lunch ready at the table. She made Szechuan Tofu, sugar snap peas in oyster sauce and Taiwanese pork mince with fried shallots.

“Where did you get the recipe?” I asked her.

“I went to the library after work and borrowed some recipe books” She said.

As I wrote before, apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree..for you see, I still borrow recipe books from the library..

Yaya had an assignment to write about slavery and she used the description Marauding henchmen for slave traders. Her teacher was very puzzled as to how she knew such a description and she explained, “my mom is a  member of the Genghis Khan’s marauding henchmen”

It all started when the kids were little. We used to make a tent by placing the duvet, bed sheets etc over the dining table and hide inside our secret cave. We used to explore various cities, read using torch light etc.

As all mother’s know, it is very difficult to get kids to eat when they are small, so I invented Marauding henchmen. ( my kids loved big words). The idea was that, I was a raider from Genghis Khan’s army and I have been fighting the wars for a long time. We ran out of food and I was hungry and looking for food. I served snacks/lunch/homemade yougure with fruits etc for my children and they hid inside the tent, quickly trying to eat their food before I could get to them. I used to cover my face and with a duppatta, change my voice to a really gruff one and march around the tent screaming, “I can smell food, I can hear my tummy rumbling, the food, the food, I need the food”

I could hear Yaya pleading with her siblings to eat quick before the henchman gets their food. And often I would keep my fingers and toes crossed that they would finish all the meat, because this particular henchman is a vegetarian :). The duvet was full of sauces and crumbs, but their tummy was full and we used to have so much fun.

Choosing to stay home to raise my babies wasn’t a smart thing to do when it came to my career. But there is nothing in this world that could come anywhere close to the joys I have had raising my children. I will never get those times again..and I don’t regret a bit that I am not treating a patient right now.

Oh, one more thing, yesterday when I try to log in to my domain ( through wordpress) like usual, I couldn’t log in, there were random ads and a note saying this domain expired in July and link to follow to renew the domain. The site address instead of showing www.daofto.com was showing as ww2, some randomwords, followed by folio.

I knew the domain was renewed in Feb, so there was no way it expired. So I assume that somehow a hacker has got access to my site. Does anyone know what is going on? and What I should do? Would you please leave a comment if you are having issues accessing my blog.

I will be away the until next Monday. Wishing you all a great weekend and life filled with tons of happiness.

One thing my children absolutely hate is being compared to each other or with their mates. And I try not to. But sometimes you wonder how children born of the same parents, raised following the same rules can be this different.

When Yaya wants to go for a movie, the preparation starts a week in advance. First, her friends will vote which movie they want to watch, followed by whose house they will be going to before and after the movie, followed by getting my permission and if the movie ends after 5.30 pm, ensuring that I will be able to pick her up from the theatre.

So when she tells me on Monday ” Mom, Can I please go for a movie with my friends on Friday?” Without much further thought, I will say “Yes” because I know she plans everything well.

Last Sunday, the house phone rang at 12.30 pm and I knew it will be one of my son’s friends. Mine was still in bed and when I gave him the phone, I heard him speaking very drowsily on the phone “sup dude?” Few seconds of mumbling later, he jumps out of the bed, grab his clothes from the cupboard and while hunting for his wallet asks/tells

“Mom, T just called, apparently his parents can give us a lift to the theatre and may I please go?”

“What time are they going?” I asked

“They are on their way to our house”

“But you haven’t” I was going to say you haven’t brushed your teeth, had breakfast/lunch. haven’t done your homework etc etc and that I hate last minute planning..but I realized the person I was talking to is already in the washroom, frantically brushing his teeth, while hollering ” mom, could you please fill my water bottle, pack a packet of  microwave popcorn and make me a cheese sandwich?” ( My children take their own microwave popcorn and use the microwave at seven eleven  to save money)

By the time I cut the crust of the bread, his friend had already arrived.

Up on seeing that the sandwich isn’t ready, my son said ” I will eat it when I come back”

“No, you will wait a minute for me to make your sandwich and then you go” I replied.

Grudgingly he waited, holding the grill door wide open, letting in all the mosquitos, spiders, flies etc and every few nano seconds asking “is it ready?”

“What time will you get back home?” I asked as I gave him the sandwich.

“I will txt you, bye mom, thanks for the sandwich” all in one sentence and he left.

From the time the phone rang to the time he left, it took less than 7 minutes. This is the same child, I have to threaten with dire consequences to get ready on time  when we have to go somewhere.

Sunday being my day off, I spend the rest of the day reading the latest Jeffrey Archer’s latest book, Best Kept Secret.  I expected him to be back home before 5, like Yaya does or if he was going to be late, make arrangements to be picked up. Come 5 o’clock, no sign of my son. No text either. I turned off the phone and turned it back on, just in case there was some network error that prevented me from getting his text. I waited until 6, still no news from him. I tried calling his hand phone, it was switched off. I looked outside, it was already pitch black and raining heavy. Panic began to rise slowly from my belly. Sure, I knew he is with his friend, but I am his mother and getting worked up on his behalf is my “right” ( for want of better terms).

6.40, I called his friend’s father and he laughed and told me ” welcome to raising boys, they can’t multi task, Neither your son, nor my son knows to think that if you go for a movie, you need to watch the one that ends at 5 pm, so you could get back home before sun down. Don’t worry, we will get a call soon”

True enough, 6.45, my son calls me to let me know that he had switched off the phone before entering the theatre, and now that the movie is over, he was wondering if I could come and fetch them. The mall close at 6 pm, I live 20 minutes drive away from the theatre and I was mad as hell for the way he does things. I thought, he and his friend would be safe taking the bus back home instead of waiting for me to come and pick them up. I didn’t want him to walk alone through the park near home at night, so I asked him to call me as soon as he gets off the bus, so I could pick him up. “Make sure, you stand under the light” I said .” yeah, I know, I am not a baby anymore” he replied. I so very much wanted to tell him, if you think you are not a baby anymore, then you should act your age. But I didn’t, because there is no point in trying to get him to understand that, I am a single mother, I don’t have any family I can lean on and I can’t just drop everything without any notice and  drive and pick him up. It isn’t easy running a household on my own with no help from anyone else.

I was so mad at him. As I took a U turn near the bus stop, there he was standing with a huge smile on his face and he hops in to the car and tells me  “Mom, you must watch Lone ranger, the movie was awesome, I am so hungry, what is for dinner?”

He didn’t get the stress I went through the past 2 hours and I realized the next time he wants to go for a movie, he and I are going to sort a few things before he leaves home. I will have to get him to understand that he needs to get back home before sun down.

Daughter of a very dear friend is going through awful teenage rebellion. I have known the child since she was 3. Both her parents are Ivy League graduates, intelligent,well read, financially well to do and have a very supportive family network. For her Bat Mitzvah, her entire family ( grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins) came from around the world to celebrate. She has been a well behaved child until recently and without any reason, she decided one fine morning that she will not listen to her mother and that her mother has no rights to tell her to do anything. It is a matter of principle, she says.

She decided that she will go to bed when she wants to, not when her mother wants to. The past few months she went to bed at 3 AM, woke up at 8.30 AM and made it to school with a second to spare, without brushing her teeth, taking a shower etc.

She decided that she will watch any movies she wants to and watch them until 3 AM..

She decided that she likes to wear sweat pants and have been wearing the same  t shirt for weeks.

She decided not to join family for meals and don’t talk to any family members.

So far her mother has tried to be nice and explain to her why she needs to go to bed on time etc, when that didn’t work, punished her by not letting her visit friends or have friends over, took her phone away, facebook away etc..and each punishment was met with the same war cry, “do your worst, but you can’t make me listen to you, I will do what I want”

My youngest has been going through her rebellious state the past few months and have started to call her siblings names. I hate children calling each other names and I have warned her clearly that she will end up sitting in the corner for a whole one hour if she called her siblings names. Which she did on Saturday and I told her to sit in the corner.

She looked at me very angrily and told me ” you can’t make me” and proceeded to walk to her room and then slammed the door.

I have never faced this until now, I am so used to Yaya and Toothless listening to me. They will both accept punishments though grudgingly, not that I have punished either of them for a very long time.

It was really shocking to see my baby behaving like this. Clearly she was wrong and she knew she was wrong, but she chose to give me an attitude. After hearing my friend’s woes, I realized that taking away her privileges is only going to make things worst. I will not hit my children or hurt them physically

So I went to her room and when I opened the door she yelled ” What do you want”

I wanted to tell her, this is my house and she better understand that and treat me well. But I controlled my temper.

I told her ” your body right now is a hormone war zone. However that doesn’t excuse your behaviour. I had warned you in advance not to call your siblings names and you disobeyed me and when I told you sit in the corner, you chose to ignore me and tell me I can’t make you. You are right that I will not physically hurt you and make you sit in the corner. But, you need to remember that, in this whole world, I am the only person who loves you unconditionally, I am the one who will always be there for you, and when you behave like this, all you are achieving Is making an enemy out of the one person who loves you and stands by you. If you think that is worth it, by all means ignore my punishment, otherwise, you must come outside and sit in the corner within the next one minute.”

She did sit in the corner with tears streaming down her cheeks. Although I did say, she has to sit for an hour, I let her go after 10 minutes.

Yesterday during dinner, we were talking about unusual names for children and Yaya showed us the youtube video of the British woman who chooses her children’s friends according to their name (http://media.smh.com.au/news/world-news/what-a-snob-mum-judges-children-by-their-names-4546882.html) I said, she is an idiot.  My son heard me and said “mom, all for one, one for all” ie  the rules should be the same across the board. If I tell my children they can’t call anyone names, then I can’t either.  “you have to sit in the corner” they said unanimously. My youngest was the happiest to see her mom sit in the corner and I wanted to show her that, it is much easier for everyone to follow the rules.

I did and like them every second I asked ” can I get up now?”

“My god, she is such a pest” said my son and found himself sitting next to me.

After 5 minutes Yaya felt sorry and freed us from our punishment.

Before my youngest went to bed, she came to me and apologized for the way she behaved and told me ” you are the best mom in the whole wide world”

I know, I won this round, but after seeing what my friend is going through with her daughter, I am not sure what the future has in store for me.