There are many reasons why I have a blog. People collect a lot of unusual things. My aunt loved collecting bells, she even has a 300 year old Swiss cow bell and knows the history of each of the bell in her possession and display her collection in every nook and corner of her house. I collect memories. I worry that in the event anything happens to my brain, then my memories will vanish.. I needed a place to store my memories. Writing a journal was the only other options, somehow after finding my mom and my sister going through my journal, I can never do it again.

I  went through my life thinking that I was the “odd” one. When I joined the medical college, all my classmates had both their parents come to the college to visit them. My parents were already divorced. But I never told anyone that. Everyone has a ‘normal’ scale..where you evaluate what you have based on what others have and in my case I wasn’t normal because I was the only one whose parents were divorced. Everyone else had perfect families. Years later, I visited the parents of a classmate while I was attending a conference in their home country..The most unusual part of their family home was, her father never talks to her mother. Not a word. They had a falling out when the kids were younger, but chose to live together as strangers for the sake of the kids. But the 5 years I was with my classmate, she never mentioned that odd fact. She waxed lyrical about how wonderful her parents are and how much they loved her..

Today, I am part of the same deception. What my friends see is a very successful woman who dresses impeccably, lives in a posh residential area and drive a flashy car, who has friends among the who is who in the society. They see the smooth version of me. They haven’t got a clue as to the journey I went through to get all those rough corners smoothened.

I needed a place where the real me exists. This is where I can be who I am. I am not seeking any ultimate glory ,neither do I care for anyone’s opinion. For me it doesn’t really matter if anyone reads my blog or not. I need to write and for me that is the most important thing. Also, if you think like I did all those years ago that I was the odd one.. that you are all alone in this world, then I hope that perhaps reading my blog will make you understand that you are not alone and that you are strong even if you don’t think so yourself.

When I was in they 3 yr MBBS, I didn’t collect my marks card for about 6 months. ( I knew which subjects I won the gold medal from my professors, but I didn’t know my marks and I didn’t want to know either.) I didn’t collect because I noticed that for a lot of my classmates, especially the ones who are barely scrapping through, they were more interested in finding out my marks..it somehow made their life a lot better if I scored less than the one they were voting for. The fact that my marks reflect my intelligence and the amount of hard work I put in didn’t factor in at all. Then there was Geroge. Every gold medal I got was because of George. I don’t know why it is hard for people to give credit where credit is due. But it hurt a lot.

I  work with gifted children here during my spare time. One of the things the children that I work with complain often is about getting the due recognition. Some time ago, the mother of one of the child that I work with came to me with tears in her eyes and recounted the reaction of the women in her temple group when they found that her daughter scored high distinction for ICAS english. “Of course it is easier for your daughter to excel in English, because she was born in England Nah.” they said. The child was born in England and did spend 2 years of her life in England before moving to Australia. The children of most her temple friends were born here in Australia. Anyone with an iota of intelligence can see the flaw in that argument. He daugher heard the comment and told her mother she will never write another ICAS test again. Children notice little things and eventually they will start to underachieve just to fit in. I have been there and I know how it feels. I was accused that I was holding on to the gifted tag. I do hold on to it because majority of the gifted children will drop out after high school, not because they aren’t intelligent, but because the schools spend all the time and energy to help a child who under achieves than the one who over achieves. Eventually most of the gifted children get disiilusioned and becomes failed gifted. I am one among the failed gifted and writing my experience  as well as that of my children, I am hoping that another gifted child will not go through what I went through. And Yes, I will fight with all I have to ensure that my children don’t go through the same.

So, About comment moderation. I know my blog is in the public domain and I am liable for the reactions that are positive or negative. As a (former) Malaysian who always preached for freedom of expression in Malaysia, I felt I was betraying myself if I didn’t allow freedom of expression in my blog. ( One ought to practice what they preach)

I didn’t ask all my blog readers to follow UFAS “United friends and Associates of Sarah”. I do respect your right to your opinion.

However, there are things that bothers me a lot.

I have written over and over that I have eidetic memory. When you write a comment, wordpress captures your IP and I can remember your IP. It isn’t that I sit here and memorise every IP. All I need is to see the IP number and my brain sees the pattern and it stays forever. I noticed that when people want to berate me or take a jab a me, they morph to Divya Unni or Manju Warrier or Pratiksha etc. from their original handle. If you are not comfortable to be who you are, but still wants to take jab on me using various other ID’s, it bothers me. It makes me think that you have something to hide and I don’t wish to support that.

My children mean the world to me. Whatever they achieve in their life is because they have worked for it. Today my son owns his own company and he also works with a lot of leading scientists in the Robotics industry. He is hoping to patent his invention end of this year. Yaya will get a diploma in Spanish Language end of this year and will start going to Uni to continue with her degree in Spanish next year.. I don’t know anything about robotics, neither do I know Spanish. It is unfair to judge my children and assume that they are where they are because A, their mother in intelligent. B. their mother pushes them. I do push my children in some areas, I want them to clean their room, learn to cook, do the laundry, play a group sport, volunteer two hours a week etc. But beyond  that I don’t push them in anything because I know the more my mother pushed me, the worst I became. I only did what made me happy, not anyone else. ( weird, I know) And I know my children will do exactly the same. So, I don’t push them. Never did, never will. If you can’t accept the simple thing that my children are intelligent and are good in what they do, then that is your issue. Freedom of expression starts with respecting your right to an opinion, but it stops when your opinion hurts the people who did nothing to you.

One commenter even took a jab on my children having to grow up without a father figure. I found that insulting. Why is it that some can’t accept that not everyone is as lucky as them and some of us do the best we can with whatever we have. I refuse to allow such comments to be published because there are plenty of sigle mothers out there doing a fantastic job and it is unfair to judge them because of the absence of a man in their life.

So, much as I hate to do this, I have resorted to comment moderation.

First Kellie’s Folly. My father was very much interested in William Kellie Smith and his folly and it was he who got me interested. Kellie was a Scottish Civil Engineer who arrived in the then British Malaya seeking his fortune. ( 1890, the same year Cecil Rhodes, founder of De beers reached Harare/Zimbabwe). Kellie made his fortune clearing the land (forest) for plantations. He then went back to Scotland and married his sweetheart Agnes. I don’t know where they lived when they came back to Malaya. Soon, Agnes gave birth to their daughter Helen. Kellie wanted a son to carry on the family name. 10 years later, Agnes gave birth to their son Anthony. It was after Anthony’s birth that Kelly decided to build his castle. He was very fascinated with Indian Architecture, especially the temple designs in South India. Being a civil engineer, it was easy for him to plan his castle. He brought Tamil labourers from India ( as indentured labourers) as well as all the building supplies. There are many versions of what happened next..Some say he was a good boss and even allowed his labourers to build a temple in his land and others say that he was very mean to the labourers and even got them to make a statue of himself and place it next to the idol in the temple the labourers built for them. Eventually Kellie lost a lot of money and also lot of his labourers died during a flu epidemic. My father thinks Kelly went to Europe to look at the Moorish architecture for inspiration and also to buy supplies and I think it was more to do with looking for further business opportunities. ( Franco became a general that year and Europe was in the throes of massive political changes) Kellie  died in Portugal in 1926 ( Pneumonia). His castle was never completed and Agnes sold the castle and went back to Scotland with her children.

Few things about the castle. It is still there in Batu Gajah ( Ipoh), it was so huge that Kelly was going to have full size tennis court in the second floor. The castle was also to have the first elevator in Malaya..

And now Sarah’s folly.. When I bought my house, in one corner there was a scraggy looking shrub that did nothing. The area was a slope and the plant looked like it was tired of standing and was practically prostrate on the ground. It wasn’t pleasing to the eye, it didn’t attract birds and I thought I will plant a native shrub. It took me weeks to chop the shrub and get rid of the roots. I planted a bottle brush tree, the Lorikeets love the nectar and I love lorikeets. All good, so I thought. Within a few weeks, I noticed that the weeds seem to love the area and one day while pulling the weed I fell down the slope. That is not good, I thought. So I bought mulch and hoped that the mulch along with a weed mat will prevent the weeds from growing. Unfortunately, I forgot that mulch really doesn’t have any anti gravity properties and the smooth surface of the weed mat just encouraged the mulch to slide all the way down. Weeds seems to have loved my jeopardy and started to really grow fast. Earlier, only the scraggy shrub looked ugly ( and I realised it actually helped prevent the weeds from growing only after cutting it) and now the whole place looked unsightly. Then inspiration struck. I thought I will build a two level steps, that will take away the slope and I can even place a garden bench there..so when I am old and bored, I could sit outside on a sunny day and twiddle my thumb. So I did..

What I didn’t know was that there was a lot of underground water in that area (ozhukku). If I had a bit of common sense, I would have noticed that the land is sloping ( it is actually the lowest point in the neighbourhood) and water always find the shortest route to where ever it is heading.. in my case to the stream by the side of my house. The past few weeks it has been a nightmare..At one stage, water was flowing over the blocks that I placed, like a natural water fall.. I did place the drain pipe ( followed all the protocol, geo fabric, aggregates ect)behind the wall that I built.. Every time it rains, I have a mini water fall..and now, I need to continue to build up the wall to the side with the drain pipe behind it..All of this just to have a native plant.

From where the fence from either side meet ( I hate that pink board the previous owner had nailed to the fence, I still don’t know why it was done and I don’t know what to do with it), initially the land sloped all the way to where the agaves are. What I did was to build up two levels. And now where the bird bath is, the whole area is muddy and I will now have to continue to build to the left and drain the water.. Vazhiye poya vayya veli thalelottu eduthu vechu..

PS: This wasn’t a one woman project. I had lots of help from friends and family.

Mothers are partial to the youngest child, at least I thought so, for the rules were different for my youngest sister compared to us. My mother let her do a lot of things she didn’t let us do. And I have always been careful that my children don’t think so and always had the same rules for all three of them. But if you ask my older two, they will tell you that I am very partial to the youngest. For eg, I asked Yaya to carry her own bag when she was in grade 2, because I had to carry her brother’s bag. The same when the brother was in grade 2 because I had to carry baby’s bag. But I didn’t ask baby to carry her own bag when she was in grade 2.  The only reason I didn’t ask the youngest to carry her own bag was because I didn’t have anything else to do. Was I wrong? Absolutely. Did I notice doing that? Not at all. I only noticed when the older two complained how unfair I was ! And over the years there were plenty of occasions where I was told over and over how unfair I was to the older ones and how partial I am to the youngest. Much as I hate to admit it, I do let baby get away with a lot of things that I didn’t let the older one do. But she was the one who spend the most amount of  time with me. ( Being January born, she only went to school when she turned 6) I was also a lot more mature than I was when Yaya was little. Until last year, baby used to come and lay down with me ask me to read a story. She still believes in Santa and tooth fairy ! Her world is all about Belugas, fairies and chocolate. If we have any discussion about sex, she says excuse me and leave the table. She was still listening to Rafi’s baby beluga song last December.

If I could use one word to describe her it would be “Happy” She has been a bundle of happiness from the time she was born. She never got angry, always have a smile and never asked for anything but chocolate !

Perhaps knowingly or unknowingly she remained as a little baby in my eyes.

Two weeks ago, she downloaded Shazam on my iphone and every time an unfamiliar song was played on the car radio, she was looking it up. I haven’t heard her playing the Baby beluga song for a few weeks. All of a sudden she seems to be interested in the “Feel this moment” ( Christina Aguilera)song and I can hear her humming it even when she is doing her home work. She never wore jeans until recently. She used to say Jeans fabric is itchy. Last week when we went out for a drive, I noticed that she wore Yaya’s old jeans.

A part of me said “wait for it”.. wait for the impending explosion that announces puberty.. but the other part of me still didn’t want to accept that my baby is no longer a baby..It can’t be.

Last sunday, I asked her to take her clothes from the laundry line and hang it in her closet.  It is a straight forward job. Having OCD, I can’t stand if the clothes are crumpled or of the edge isn’t straight. So I do spend a lot of time and energy to hang them properly to ensure that everything is picture perfect. In the evening as I passed by her room, I noticed on the floor a tangled heap of all those clothes that I hung so carefully on the clothes line.( not even on her bed..the floor!) She was laying down on her bed and was reading. I asked her to pick up all those clothes from the floor and hang them properly. She looked up from her book and gave me  ‘that’ look. If her eyes were laser, I would have ended up as heap of ash on the floor. It was that mean and vicious.

“oh dear” I said realizing that we have reached that stage, where I am now the mortal enemy..

“Baby, why are you angry with me when you are the one who is wrong? You know I hung all those clothes properly and now you crumpled all of them” I asked gently

And I heard Yaya telling her brother “Look how nice mom is to baby”

So to make it all even I said ” pick up your bloody clothes from the floor and hang it NOW”

She actually was grinding her teeth with anger and I stood there trying to figure out where this will all end. And the truth is, I don’t know.

When Yaya was in grade 3, she was selected for the gifted and talented program and the mother of one of her classmate went all the way to the Ministry of Education complaining that the teacher was partial to Yaya because both of them are Asians! There was a review, followed by the WISC (Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children ) and it was agreed unanimously that Yaya was the right candidate for the program and there was no partiality.

Having studied in India, I know how partiality works. Teacher’s pet always won. You don’t really need to be outstanding, sometimes, all you need is to have a parent who is a teacher or a really smart older sibling  and under his/her glory you can bask and shine and you are all set to achieve glory. I used to feel so bitter seeing how easy it was for some students to get the highest marks while I worked my ass off and still got the second best. Eventually I learned that there was no point in fighting a losing battle and worked to ensure that I did well in  the exams that aren’t controlled by my teachers ( externals)..to such an extent that I gave empty answer sheets to all the class exams. Of course it was a sure way to ensure that the teachers hated me and my guts and would do anything to make my life miserable, but still it felt good knowing that I wasn’t letting them win by showing partiality to the kids who sucked up to them.

Living outside India with all the rights the constitution is supposed to grant to ordinary mortals, one would expect that at least there won’t be any partiality. Not so.

I learned from my experience that although there are so many checks and balances to ensure that the system is fair to all, there are many ways teachers can make children’s life miserable. We came to Australia when my son had just completed grade 3 in Canada and was placed in the last term of grade 4 ( in a 4/5 split class) in Australia. He was already in advanced maths program in Canada and in the three months of grade 4, he completed the grade 5 maths here. The normal way is that the kids who are excelling in a subject continue to the next level and in my son’s case it would be grade 6 maths in grade 5 class. But his grade 5 teacher refused and wanted my son to do the grade 5 maths again. ( She was just lazy and  didn’t want extra work). My son said, he didn’t want to go to the school if he has to do the grade 5 maths again and I had no choice but to go to the Dept of Education and the teacher was reprimanded. ( there were other issues as well). But in all these, what I didn’t know when I went to the dept of education is that the said teacher is the union representative and is the sister in law of the school principal. And the principal went on a two year witch hunt and my poor child was picked on for every little thing. There is no way I would claim that my son is a paragon of virtue, but at the same time a lot of things the principal picked on him was unfair to him. During recess, one of his classmate ‘girl’ kicked on his shin and my son had Osgood Shlatter ( growing pain and swelling of the knee) and  it hurt a lot ( emotionally and physically)and he told her I will tell on you. Apparently, that is bullying..not the kicking part, the ‘I will tell on you’ part. According to the principal, it was an accidental kick and my son shouldn’t have emotionally bullied a girl !

Then she placed my son in a grade 6/7 split when he was in grade 7. There were 4 other grade 7 classes, two of which had teachers who are in charge of the maths acceleration program. But the Principal chose to place my son in the lower class ! and according to her minion and the union representative, the principal\s decision was final..and I threatened to sue the school ( I would have, it wasn’t an empty threat)and eventually the principal moved my son from the grade 6/7 split to grade 7 ( but still didn’t place him in the class run by the maths acceleration teachers). I told my son to just grin and bear because this witch hunt was taking a toll on both of us and also told him to watch his back all the time. The checks and balance was there, but it doesn’t work when the people who are in charge of the balance manipulate it to use it to their advantage.

And now the problem is again for Yaya. Her current teacher has favourite students and yesterday she gave Yaya a B+ for Spanish and A+ for her favourite student. According to Yaya, both of them have made the same mistakes. ( and I do remember her grade 3 incident and know there is probably another side to the story, however, Yaya wouldn’t tell me something unless she is absolutely sure that she is right) For Yaya, the grades she gets the next two years will have a major impact on her future and I know how she feels. I even tried to get her to suck up to the teacher and as apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, like her mother she too refused.

I don’t know how to deal with this. If I go to the authorities, then I am scared that Yaya will suffer the consequences like my son did. If I don’t, then I failed my child.

I was never fond of TV and when I returned to Malaysia, I didn’t buy one. I only bought a TV after 9/11 and by then I was expecting my third child. I wanted my children to read books and also didn’t want to use TV as a nanny, so I restricted my children’s TV time when they were young.

When we lived in Mumbai, the unit I was renting came with a cable connection and when I called the cable company to disconnect the cable, they send someone to see if I made some illegal connection and was trying to cheat the cable provider.

Last Sunday,after our dinner, I sat on my favourite chair to watch our family Sunday evening program. When my children were little, we watched Three stooges, Popeye etc and munched home made popcorn. Last Sunday, we watched Elementary. Actually, I would have liked to watch The mentalist ( I still have a huge crush on Simon Baker !) which was also on at the same time, but I was voted out.

Yaya wants to work in a pub while she is at the uni, she read somewhere that jobs in the pubs pay the most money and she thinks she will have a better chance of getting a job if she knew how to mix cocktails. I am her guinea pig. She made nutty irish cocktail for me and a mocktail with ginger beer and lemon cordial for herself and her siblings.

As I sipped my drink, I looked at my children, gone were the little kids with chubby cheeks and eager eyes fighting over a bowl of popcorn happily watching a silly cartoon and laughing. Now there are two teenagers and a pre teen and a clueless mother watching a program rated M.

Of couse I knew more than anyone that time flies..but with each new day, I find myself in unchartered waters..dating, sex, drugs, alcohol..and I wish I spend more time to cherish those perfectly oridinary days when my children were little..I will never get them again,

I don’t remember where I read it, but it was said that, it is much better to tell your children “please walk” than “don’t run”. I practiced it when Yaya was little and never used the word “No” and one day when she was about 14 months old she discovered the word “No” and she used it for everything, we had weeks of “No” . When I asked “Yaya would you life to take a nap”

“No” she would reply and promptly went to bed few minutes later. She used to drive me crazy with  her “no”, but eventually I too got converted to say “No” and soon it became “Yaya, take your nap NOW”

Over the years, it has been the one word that causes the maximum drama in my house. It starts with “mom, can I..(add anything here)” and after careful consideration if I said “No”, which immediately gets the reply “why not” and the answer “because I am your mom and I said so”..and then it all goes downhill. The thing is, none of my children come to me with a question that I can say Yes, like, “Mom, can I help you with the laundry?” “Can I cook dinner?” Would you like me to mow the lawn?” They only come to with questions that obviously has a “no” in built in it. Like “Mom, Can I watch MA 15 movie with my friends (my son just turned 13 and he obviously knows I won’t allow him to watch MA 15 till he is 15)

I don’t say “No’ without a rhyme or reason and I expect my children to absolutely understand that when I say No, I mean it. But that has been the one message, they still haven’t got.

I am not fond of kitchen gadgets. However, my friends think that   kitchen gadgets would be the ideal gift to give me because of my love for cooking. I was given a rolling pin that came with a plastic sheet that has various  pie sizes marked on it. So if the recipe calls for 9 inch pie base, you can roll it on the plastic base and get the exact size. But I already have a rolling pin and a marble base that I  have been using for the past 20 years. The marble base doesn’t give the exact 9 inch, but to me, it really doesn’t matter..any excess base is trimmed and I use it to decorate the top of the pie. Recently I was given a garlic press. It takes me less than a minute to peel a garlic, smash it with the cleaver adn chop it to fine pieces. ( Actually the smashing part is very therapeutic, especially when I am angry !)..imagine having to peel a garlic clove, then find the garlic press from the utensil holder, wash both the garlic and the press and then gently place the garlic in the slot and then press both ends..and then wash the various pieces that are part of the garlic press and the knife you used to peel the garlic..Why would I want to do all that when I can chop it much quicker ?

To make my childrens life easier, every year when they ask what I ‘really’ want for Christmas, I always ask ‘buy me something for the kitchen’. When they were little, they gave me a teapot, kitchen towels etc. When Yaya was in grade 5, she saved money for a full year and bought me a spice rack as Christmas gift. ( It is my most cherished Christmas gift) And since then the bar of Mom’s Christmas gift has been raised..and it was with great trepidation I opened their gift last Christmas. They decided to buy me a slow cooker. They also gave me a slow cooker recipe book.

Honestly, what was I going to do with a slow cooker? I am a fast cook and can whip up  a decent meal in less than 30 minutes. Slow cooker isn’t meant for my cooking style. But my kids were eagerly waiting for me to use the gift they bought with so much love and consideration. I had no choice but to use it. So,I made  vindaloo sauce and chucked the meat and sauce in the slow cooker and left it to do what it is supposed to do one Sunday morning. ( I also made pizza base for that just in case scenario, because being the smart one, I knew the slow cooker isn’t going to work and is a waste of time and money). I went on to do my chores. By evening, there was the best vindaloo curry in the slow cooker. It smelled amazing and the kids said the meat was very tender and full of flavour.

And now, before leaving home each morning, I chuck the dinner in to the slow cooker and when my kids get back from school in the evening, there is always something hot for them to eat.

Slow cooker saved my life. ( I never thought I would say that !)

My condo unit in Malaysia is in the area known as Golden triangle. My kitchen window faced one of the side roads and every day I would keep Yaya on the kitchen counter and together we watched what I called ‘view from the kitchen window’. People old and young rushing here and there, cars zipping by, roti man on his bike and tooting the horn and the birds.There was an Oriole nest on the tree by the roadside and we watched the oriole flying back and forth to the nest and in the evening we went for a walk to see if the chicks hatched.

Usually whenever foreign dignitaries visits KL, the main streets get a face lift. The flags of the foreign country will fly along side the Malaysian flag from all the lamp posts..there will be more hanging plants, flowers etc, This beautifying process is only reserved for major roads. I can’t remember who the dignitary was ( ? Gusmao), but it was said that particular visit, he might want to visit the market in the side street near my home. Water tankers were send to clean the pavement. All the hawkers were removed and even the missing bricks on the pavement were replaced. It was all good and I hoped more foreign dignitaries will decide to visit the market.

And that is when I noticed that, in the quest of beautifying the street, some bright spark felt the beautiful tree growing on the side street is an eye sore and had to be chopped down. The oriole nest was still there and I took Yaya and went  to the guys who were all set to chop the tree and showed them the nest. They laughed at me  and then told me “Mahathir’s order”  I  tried to explain to them that, Mahathir will never order to chop a perfectly functioning tree. They destroyed the nest and chopped the tree..price for idiocy.. As I walked back to my Condo, I told Yaya ” there is a native american saying , only when the last tree has been cut down, the last river has been poisoned and the last fish has been caught, people will learn that you can’t eat money” She was 3 + years old then.. I didn’t think she understood what I was saying.

Sometime ago, Yaya had to present a paper..and this is what she wrote.

There are two sides to every coin, on one side you have money as en enemy and on the other side, it is a friend and since time immemorial it has been said that you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer. However, in today’s society the line between friend and foe has worn extremely thin and you can no longer tell them apart.  It only takes a flip of the coin for money to change from your friend to your enemy or vice versa.

SHOW FILM ( Sorry, I don’t know how to upload the film)

The main issue of today’s society is the fact that we let money control our lives; what we do, how we think etc. Such is the case in the poem This Man by poet Celo Kulagoe of which I have been fortunate enough to find and interpret it into a modern day issue that needs to be addressed. This is what I am here to talk about at the xxxxx in xxxxx Exhibition today and I thank you for inviting me here to express my opinions. We’ve all been told that money can’t buy happiness. Maybe it can’t, but it can buy a house, food and clothing all of which bring us comfort which is pretty darn close to happiness. Sure we could possibly live without these things but ask yourself; wouldn’t you rather live in a nice, comfortable house rather than on a park bench? But on the other side of the coin we explore how money brings the complete opposite of happiness.

 “Monetary income is one measure of a person’s contribution to society and an incentive to make a greater contribution”, an anonymous quote.

It is a natural human instinct to want to participate and contribute to the community, to see it improve and develop, and this is the real reason of our need for money. However we, as a society have for far too long obsessed over the material things and have forgotten this true nature of why we need it. We have become so obsessed; we completely overlook how it controls our lives. Haven’t we all heard that big things come in small packages? Who would have thought that a single coin could control the human population?

I have chosen an instrumental version of the rap song ‘Aim for the Head’ by Cassidy because its mood and tone match that of my poem, it has a steady melancholy beat to accentuate the frankness of my video. The images I have chosen in my interpretation of this poem depict the ways money is powerful, the many ways in which we are tied to money and the ways in which we are trapped by it.

I have used pictures that represent the children in Africa who have nothing but still manage to be happy while we the western civilization, are consumed with our need for money. In reality these children are the most powerful for they bring meaning to the phrase “Money can’t buy happiness”. The next image consists of an ant to show that money, like an ant, is small but it is always much stronger than expected. I believe that we are controlled by this material worth just like a TV is by a remote; at the press of a button thus an image of a TV remote was used. Though we grace money with a high value we also use it as a punching bag, target it for all our problems and blame it which is why I have chosen to use an image of a target.

In the poem money is referred to as a friend that helps our society- the people and countries grow. The line, “He is extremely decorative, he puts on all kinds of ornaments,” describes the way in which money can be deceitful in its many disguises and this is why I have selected a photo of a mask.

Now we flip back to the other side of the coin and see that though it controls us, this is not always a bad thing as:

“Money can also be an enabler of freedom in that it gives you choices you would not otherwise have and the means to exercise those choices.”, an anonymous quote. Thus I have chosen to include an image of a bird leaving its cage because like the bird, we are given the freedom of choice.

In conclusion, “Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realise we cannot eat money”– a Cree Native American Proverb. We don’t see how we are controlled by money, how we are tied to it whether it be a friend or an enemy and through this we have forgotten the real reason we need it.

End.

When I read the last para, I realized how much of an impact parents play in their children’s life and I asked her where did she hear the Cree quote?  She said ” Mom, You remember the annai cutting the tree near our house in KL that had the Oriole’s nest? You told me the quote that day”

I don’t really look like a mallu, neither do I act like one. But that doesn’t mean that I am not a mallu.. there is so much in me that can really be classified as mallu traits.

Steaming hot kanji and payar thoran ( making it even more authentic if it is served  in an old pinjanam pathram) can quickly cure an affliction of melancholy..

Or that heaviness in my heart that appears every season..In march, I miss the summer in Kerala, in June it is the first rain of the season, in Aug it is onam and in December I miss the Christmas in Kerala. The Malayalee in me is still very much alive..and now my children are decimating it by the minute..

It all started with Yaya coming to me for my opinion.

“Does this top go well with my jeans?” She asked. Simple question that had a very simple answer. “Yes” I said.

“Are you sure, Mom?”

I nodded my head and our in-house  Gecko too agreed and clicked his tongue. ” See, palliyum chilachu” I said.

“What?” She asked.

Obviously I had to translate and I told her that the gecko also agreed with me by clicking its tongue.

I wish I could explain the look on my daughter’s face. “Seriously mom, you became a doctor and still rely on gecko?”

For my child, gecko clicking its tongue is nothing but a physiological phenomenon. But I grew up with it. The decisions we took in our life were dependent on the gecko. If we were going to do something important and the gecko clicked its tongue Ammachi/Amma/Appa  etc would stop whatever they were doing and say “gulikan chilachu”.. It was a warning..it was also a sign of someone saying truth. I never thought of asking the scientific reasons for the belief..neither did I really care what the gecko’s tongue clicking means.. But the clicking sound defined who I am..It connected me to the members of my family..It was a belief that carried over generations..Whether I lived in Chengannur house or in Brisbane..when I hear a gecko clicking its tongue..a part of me still says..”gulikan chilachu”

Sadly, gulikan and its clicking will end with me..

My sister younger to me always felt she was the unwanted middle child, the black sheep of the family and much as I always tried to explain to her that it is not true and that she is the 3rd of 4 kids and technically can’t be a middle child, she never accepted it. I have always been mindful about my son having the middle child syndrome and ensured that the rules were same for all three of my kids. But he knew just how to push it.

Every Saturday when we went to the pasar Malam ( night market), I bought nail polish for the girls and some toys for my son. But he never worried about his sisters not having toys, he complained bitterly that I was being unfair when I didn’t buy nail polish for him. When I said boys don’t usually use nail polish, he said “then buy it for my wife” ( he was about 4 yrs old then !)  He also wept bitter tears for having only one piece of swimming outfit ( shorts)when his sisters had two ( bikini!)

The three traits that I find the most annoying in my son are ..complaints, comparisons and being a tattle tale.

I think the one sentence that still gives me the heebie jeebies would be my sisters saying ” innu kittikollum” ( you will ‘get it’ today), often after I did something I wasn’t meant to and they are aware of it and are waiting for Amma to return to tell on me and get me in to big trouble. Only those who has received the punishment after waiting for it for hours know how the wait felt..the impending doom.. Tattling causes the biggest disharmony among siblings and I was determined not to encourage it. When my kids were little, I didn’t react when they tattled on each other..and eventually they understood snitching on each other was a total waste of time..But lately my son seems to be only interested in tattling.

Because my iphone has been used/misused to play various games, when I bought my Ipad, I told the kids “it is mine and don’t even touch it”..Obviously my dictates have very short life span and soon my youngest really wanted to borrow my ipad because she could download the books free from epubbud instead of buying it on kindle. I let her on a condition that she will not download any games on my ipad. 30 minutes later my son calls me to tell me that “mom, ‘met’ is playing games on your ipad” Surely, he felt the need to be the in-house policeman..and make his sisters hate him. I am not saying that my daughter was right to download games when I told her already not to. I was so mad at both of them, but since I wasn’t home, I told him I will deal with it when I get back home. I wasn’t surprised at all to find him playing games on my ipad when I returned.  He didn’t think that if he thought his sister shouldn’t be playing the game on my ipad, then it is the same rule for him too. He finds faults in his sisters..but not his own.. Every day he finds something new to tattle..and I wish he would stop..