I bet most of you have no idea whether, after having a baby, I still work or have opted to be a Stay At Home Mom (SAHM). In fact, a few of you who know me only through my blog, mailed me and talked as if you have assumed I still work. I don't know why that is, because never have I mentioned anywhere on my blog, whether I am a working mom or not.
Anyway, let me tell you. No, I don't work any longer. I have resigned from my job. I am a SAHM. (Isn't there a better term for this?)
Among all my friends, only a handful of us have decided to become SAHMs. Most of my friends have gone back to work months after having their babies. So I am aware I am in the minority.
Why did I choose this option? Before I start, I want to clarify that everything I say in this post is the way I look at things. I respect everybody's decision to do what they please. Parenting is all about making choices, and everybody makes choices that are best suited to them. There are different ways of parenting, and this is mine. There are no right things or wrong things, only perceptions.
Now that I have got that out of the way, let me go on to why I decided to be a SAHM.
*A baby has to be left with someone if I went to work, and that someone could be -
- My parents or In-laws - The baby's grandparents have already done their job of parenting. They have gone through all the difficulties and adjustments. They are now busy with their own activities. So why tie them down with this responsibility? They might consider it joyful, but a few hours, a few days are okay. But everyday? For years? It is not fair on them. Even if they were very willing, my conscience wouldn't have allowed it. If I had no other go, if I had to work to put bread on the table, that is another matter altogether. But that is hardly the case here! I heard about a child who stays with her grandparents while her parents go to work. Apparently the child is closer to her grandparents than to her parents. I would never have been able to take that. I would have died of jealousy! This option was so not for me.
- A maid - I am totally against the idea of leaving a child with a maid. It might be because of bad examples I have seen as a child, or it might be that I feel it is like passing on the responsibility to someone who is not quite equipped to do the job. Why, sometimes, I myself, in frustration, put on Discovery Channel and plonk Puttachi in front of the television to catch my breath. What is the guarantee that the maid won't sit in front of the television all day long? Puttachi already points out animals like giraffes and puffer fish in books. Can I expect the maid to teach her things like that? Besides, who will manage the maid? I have a friend who is a SAHM, has a full time maid and a cook who comes in twice a day, and yet she complains about lack of time. Why? Because managing those two maids is a huge headache in itself. Especially for people like me - I have absolutely no patience dealing with household helps and maids. So this option didn't even enter the picture.
- Grandparents - maid combination. The maid does all the child-related work, and the grandparents provide the atmosphere and correct upbringing. This is not my idea, this is something that has been continuously suggested to me by "helpful" people. I am sure it would be the ideal situation for many people. Yet, the grandparents are tied down. Feeding meals, putting the child to bed, constant entertainment and engagement for the child - these responsibilities remain.
- Daycare. I know friends in the US who send their daughters to daycare, and I know that it is quite evolved there. But here? I am not too sure, and frankly, I don't want to know either. Leaving my baby with strangers this early is quite frightening. This option didn't hold water in my book.
*Second, important point. I hardly was in love with my job. I was not too bad at it, and it had its advantages, but on many days, I would feel like the high point of the working day was the lunch break and the tea break. Add to that the strenuous commute in polluted and clogged Bangalore - I nearly resigned out of frustration a few times, even before Puttachi was nowhere in the horizon. So leaving my job wasn't a major decision. I did it quite willingly. How I would have handled it if my job was dear to me - of that I have no idea.
*Third - and this is the simplest, most basic reason of them all. I love to be with Puttachi. I love having her around. It is one of the greatest pleasures of life. Period.
One more thing. People ask me all the time why I chose to be with home with my baby after being so vociferous about women standing up for their rights. Please understand - working out of home does not imply empowerment. Empowerment comes when a woman has the freedom to do what she wants to do. Now, if I am forced to go back to work, and I do so when I don't really want to, then I am giving up my rights as a woman. But now I have chosen to be with my baby out of my own volition - and that makes all the difference.
But being a SAHM is not all hunky-dory. As much as I enjoy being with Puttachi, and caring for her needs, it is also true that sometimes I need to be away from her. I am sure she deserves a break from me too, once in a while. Besides, being at home all day means that I miss company. I want someone to talk about things that aren't connected to babies and parenting.(Which is why I don't read many mommy blogs). More than anything else, I crave intelligent conversation. Sometimes I get this urge to break open the walls and run outside into the sun. But this is a connected world. I make the most of the internet, and telephone. People ask me how I find the time to manage my blog. I find time for blogging like I find time to eat, and to sleep. My blog keeps me going. My connection with you - known and unknown people - acts like a spirit booster. Every comment makes me smile, makes me feel connected. So it is not really such a great achievement, maintaining this blog. :)
One more hazard of being a SAHM - since you are around to listen, you are given advice - unwanted and unasked for. You are also constantly told what a bad mom you are. I have a healthy belief in my abilities, but there are moments of self-doubts, and it is during such times that theese comments erode my fragile confidence, and it leaves me extremely frustrated. These moments can be very hazardous to mental health :D
Also, I must give credit where it is due. S~ has a major role in making my role as a SAHM smooth. He sees to it that he is with us as often as possible, and that is what keeps me sane. He takes over as soon as he gets home from work, giving me time and space for myself. He adjusts his time and works around things to ensure that I get to go where I want to, meet whom I want to, be with people I love, do the activities that are special to me. He bears it when I am being difficult. He tolerates my mood swings that arise out of frustration, and does his best to pull me out of the pits. It is because of him that I am staying happy as an SAHM, and that is the whole truth. Without his support and help, this option wouldn't have worked for me.
But it is also true that I don't want to continue this way for long. I'll rust and start creaking at the joints, and develop early Alzheimer's. No, thanks, I want to put that brain of mine to work in ways other than thinking up creative ways to make Puttachi enjoy her meals.
I will tell you about that when it happens. But now, I will enjoy the present moment.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Eleven Months
I call my eleven-month-old Puttachi a baby and something seems wrong. She is hardly a baby any longer. She is a walking, communicating, interactive little girl. Where is my baby, I wonder, until something upsets her and she comes crying and clings to me. Ah, here she is.
But, more than a baby, she is -
My Buddy - We sing together, we jig together. We walk hand in hand, tickle one another, even feed one another (When I am feeding her a meal, she feeds me the morsels that have falle on her bib). We play ring-a-ring o'roses. I tell her stories, and we read books and play together. She talks to me, and understands what I tell her. She is my buddy!
Communicator - Overnight, she has become extremely communicative. It was as if, all these days, she had been watching, observing, listening, and storing everything in her head. And then suddenly one day she wakes up and says, "Ok, lemme show 'em what I know", and turned into another involved member of the family. The change has been really overwhelming.
There are things I have taught her, and I know she knows that. But there are some things I have no idea she knows, and this is where she surprises me with her vocabulary and her knowledge of things. The other day I heard her say, 'Taats'. I turned round to see her holding her socks in her hand. She repeated, 'Taats." She then held it out to me and said, 'Ta-ta". She was showing me her socks and saying, come on, put it on me, let's go Ta-ta! (btw, anything worn on the feet is Taats.)
When we visited my parents, she went to my mom, pulled her to the kitchen, asked to be carried, and then she pointed towards the sugar box and demanded, "Ajji, Ta-kke!" (Sakkare for Sugar). We have no idea when she registered where the sugar box was. Then there was this other time when she suddenly stopped playing, came to me, asked to be carried, and then she yawned, rubbed her eyes, put her head on my shoulder, and said, 'Taachi', telling me that she was sleepy.
Her favourite book has a cheetah on the cover. When she wants it, she says "Ti-ta-te" (Chirate in Kannada for Cheetah) and looks around for it. When she has lost something, or when someone goes out of the room, she chants, "Elli? Elli?" (Where?) and goes loking for it/him/her. She brings her toys to me one by one, and says Ta-tu (thank you) herself, when I accept them.
And then there was this time when I was singing a song, and I paused, and she completed it in her baby language. Not in tune, no intelligible words, but enough for me to realize that she was completing the song. And this with a sway of her head and a sparkle of her delighted twinkling eyes.
I could go on and on, but I am sure you are already bored now. It is just that I cannot get over the fact that yesterday this kid stared at me, apparently blankly, while I talked to her, while all the while she had been storing things in her little head to surprise me with.
Observer - I had left my mobile within her reach. She picked it up, and I called from across the room, "No, Puttachi, put that down. You use it only to call somebody. Whom will you call? Papange phone madthiya? (Will you call PapA?) She smiled, and put the phone to her ear. And I fainted. She puts her teddy bear that is almost her size, down on her lap, pats it (rather beats the hell out of it), and says, "Te-tte Taachi" (Teddy Sleep) thinking she is putting it to bed. Then there was this time I was down with a cold, and she saw me sneezing into my handkerchief. When I was seated, she brought a random piece of cloth to me, held it to my face, and said, "Shi! Shi!"
Climber - Her mantra in life is "I must climb." Steps, objects, people - must be climbed. If there is something higher than the level on which she is standing, she has to climb it. She raises her leg almost higher than herself and keeps it first on that level, and then makes all efforts to climb, in the process losing her balance too. But climb she must. I hope even metaphorically, she is a climber in life! Realistically, this is one habit of hers that has me scared stiff.
Acrobat/Gymnast - Her body is always twisting itself in the weirdest positions, and her hands and legs are flying all across the rooms. During her bath, she raises her leg higher than herself to put into the bucket of water. When she is asleep at night, she suddenly turns over, or somersaults, sits up and cries. My guess is that she can sleep through the night, and let us sleep to, if not for this strange habit of hers. When we put her back on her back and pat her a couple of times, she falls asleep without any fuss. Any ideas why she might be doing this, and how it can be solved? (She sleeps in a crib, attached to our bed).
Violent person - Not only is she extremely restless, she is also a very violent person. Her limbs fly in all directions, often hurting herself. There is one thing I am worried about. What if, when she and I are alone, she lashes out and knocks me unconscious?
Protester - All these days, if she wanted a forbidden object and screamed for it, a minor distraction would be enough to draw her attention away from it. But now, she remembers. She enjoys the distraction, but then goes back to what she wanted in the first place, and looks for it. If she doesn't find it, we are done for. And previously, she just would scream in frustration when being changed, or fed medicine, etc. Now, she protests. Loudly and violently.
Imitator - When she sees anyone do something or say something, she imitates it immediately.
Strange kid - I read in books that babies this age point at objects when asked where a certain object is.. This kid points either with her foot, or with her head, or with her mouth (by licking the object in question). Only very recently has she started pointing with her finger.
She has been sick for a while, and she has become extremely clingy. She wants no one but me. When she is feeling particularly low, she screams until I carry her, buries her head in my shoulder and then calms down. I am writing this specially because when, a few years down the line, she will be ashamed to be seen with me in public, I can read this and comfort myself with the memory that there were such times too!
But, more than a baby, she is -
My Buddy - We sing together, we jig together. We walk hand in hand, tickle one another, even feed one another (When I am feeding her a meal, she feeds me the morsels that have falle on her bib). We play ring-a-ring o'roses. I tell her stories, and we read books and play together. She talks to me, and understands what I tell her. She is my buddy!
Communicator - Overnight, she has become extremely communicative. It was as if, all these days, she had been watching, observing, listening, and storing everything in her head. And then suddenly one day she wakes up and says, "Ok, lemme show 'em what I know", and turned into another involved member of the family. The change has been really overwhelming.
There are things I have taught her, and I know she knows that. But there are some things I have no idea she knows, and this is where she surprises me with her vocabulary and her knowledge of things. The other day I heard her say, 'Taats'. I turned round to see her holding her socks in her hand. She repeated, 'Taats." She then held it out to me and said, 'Ta-ta". She was showing me her socks and saying, come on, put it on me, let's go Ta-ta! (btw, anything worn on the feet is Taats.)
When we visited my parents, she went to my mom, pulled her to the kitchen, asked to be carried, and then she pointed towards the sugar box and demanded, "Ajji, Ta-kke!" (Sakkare for Sugar). We have no idea when she registered where the sugar box was. Then there was this other time when she suddenly stopped playing, came to me, asked to be carried, and then she yawned, rubbed her eyes, put her head on my shoulder, and said, 'Taachi', telling me that she was sleepy.
Her favourite book has a cheetah on the cover. When she wants it, she says "Ti-ta-te" (Chirate in Kannada for Cheetah) and looks around for it. When she has lost something, or when someone goes out of the room, she chants, "Elli? Elli?" (Where?) and goes loking for it/him/her. She brings her toys to me one by one, and says Ta-tu (thank you) herself, when I accept them.
And then there was this time when I was singing a song, and I paused, and she completed it in her baby language. Not in tune, no intelligible words, but enough for me to realize that she was completing the song. And this with a sway of her head and a sparkle of her delighted twinkling eyes.
I could go on and on, but I am sure you are already bored now. It is just that I cannot get over the fact that yesterday this kid stared at me, apparently blankly, while I talked to her, while all the while she had been storing things in her little head to surprise me with.
Observer - I had left my mobile within her reach. She picked it up, and I called from across the room, "No, Puttachi, put that down. You use it only to call somebody. Whom will you call? Papange phone madthiya? (Will you call PapA?) She smiled, and put the phone to her ear. And I fainted. She puts her teddy bear that is almost her size, down on her lap, pats it (rather beats the hell out of it), and says, "Te-tte Taachi" (Teddy Sleep) thinking she is putting it to bed. Then there was this time I was down with a cold, and she saw me sneezing into my handkerchief. When I was seated, she brought a random piece of cloth to me, held it to my face, and said, "Shi! Shi!"
Climber - Her mantra in life is "I must climb." Steps, objects, people - must be climbed. If there is something higher than the level on which she is standing, she has to climb it. She raises her leg almost higher than herself and keeps it first on that level, and then makes all efforts to climb, in the process losing her balance too. But climb she must. I hope even metaphorically, she is a climber in life! Realistically, this is one habit of hers that has me scared stiff.
Acrobat/Gymnast - Her body is always twisting itself in the weirdest positions, and her hands and legs are flying all across the rooms. During her bath, she raises her leg higher than herself to put into the bucket of water. When she is asleep at night, she suddenly turns over, or somersaults, sits up and cries. My guess is that she can sleep through the night, and let us sleep to, if not for this strange habit of hers. When we put her back on her back and pat her a couple of times, she falls asleep without any fuss. Any ideas why she might be doing this, and how it can be solved? (She sleeps in a crib, attached to our bed).
Violent person - Not only is she extremely restless, she is also a very violent person. Her limbs fly in all directions, often hurting herself. There is one thing I am worried about. What if, when she and I are alone, she lashes out and knocks me unconscious?
Protester - All these days, if she wanted a forbidden object and screamed for it, a minor distraction would be enough to draw her attention away from it. But now, she remembers. She enjoys the distraction, but then goes back to what she wanted in the first place, and looks for it. If she doesn't find it, we are done for. And previously, she just would scream in frustration when being changed, or fed medicine, etc. Now, she protests. Loudly and violently.
Imitator - When she sees anyone do something or say something, she imitates it immediately.
Strange kid - I read in books that babies this age point at objects when asked where a certain object is.. This kid points either with her foot, or with her head, or with her mouth (by licking the object in question). Only very recently has she started pointing with her finger.
She has been sick for a while, and she has become extremely clingy. She wants no one but me. When she is feeling particularly low, she screams until I carry her, buries her head in my shoulder and then calms down. I am writing this specially because when, a few years down the line, she will be ashamed to be seen with me in public, I can read this and comfort myself with the memory that there were such times too!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
You know summer is here......
....When
- 6 am looks and feels like 7 am.
- You automatically wake up at 6 am and don't feel even the slightest urge to curl up under the covers and go back to sleep for "just five more minutes".
- You cringe to even touch blankets and sweaters, even if it is to pack them away.
- The hot water knob is turned way down during your bath, and the cold water knob is turned all the way through.
- You tilt the coconut oil container and the hitherto solid coconut oil flows down in rivulets and soils half the room.
- Even the mere mention of hot soup, or tea or coffee is enough to make you grimace
- The fan stops being just a ceiling adornment.
- You stop complaining about high a/c at office.
- Peaceful afternoons are now interrupted with screaming children enjoying their summer holidays.
- Summer afternoons make you drowsy and you fall asleep even if you don't want to, and then you wake up with a bad taste in the mouth, and you feel unimaginably grouchy.
- You automatically reach for thin, cotton, sleeveless clothes when you open the cupboard.
- You find that water disappears mysteriously from your waterbottles and jugs.
- .. and yet, you nearly forget what your toilet looks like.
- The slightest fragrance of jasmine transports you twenty years back in time to summer holidays in Mysore.
- Household chores involving the use of water don't really seem that bad any longer.
- Any time is ice cream time.
- You are always feeling irritated and tempers are running high everywhere.
I could write more but I am feeling too hot to type. Maybe you can help me. The comments section is waiting!
- 6 am looks and feels like 7 am.
- You automatically wake up at 6 am and don't feel even the slightest urge to curl up under the covers and go back to sleep for "just five more minutes".
- You cringe to even touch blankets and sweaters, even if it is to pack them away.
- The hot water knob is turned way down during your bath, and the cold water knob is turned all the way through.
- You tilt the coconut oil container and the hitherto solid coconut oil flows down in rivulets and soils half the room.
- Even the mere mention of hot soup, or tea or coffee is enough to make you grimace
- The fan stops being just a ceiling adornment.
- You stop complaining about high a/c at office.
- Peaceful afternoons are now interrupted with screaming children enjoying their summer holidays.
- Summer afternoons make you drowsy and you fall asleep even if you don't want to, and then you wake up with a bad taste in the mouth, and you feel unimaginably grouchy.
- You automatically reach for thin, cotton, sleeveless clothes when you open the cupboard.
- You find that water disappears mysteriously from your waterbottles and jugs.
- .. and yet, you nearly forget what your toilet looks like.
- The slightest fragrance of jasmine transports you twenty years back in time to summer holidays in Mysore.
- Household chores involving the use of water don't really seem that bad any longer.
- Any time is ice cream time.
- You are always feeling irritated and tempers are running high everywhere.
I could write more but I am feeling too hot to type. Maybe you can help me. The comments section is waiting!
Friday, April 18, 2008
Parenting: Harder or easier now?
Let's face it. Parenting is hard. But what is hard? If sleepless nights are the worst thing that could happen to you, it could be a matter-of-fact thing for me. I could crib about loss of freedom while you might look at me as if I am nuts.
It is all how you look at it.
But I received this link in the Baby Center bulletin and it got me thinking. In the Indian context, what is it like?
The first person I asked was my mom. "It is easier now", she declared. "You have a million facilities to ease and aid you. Disposable diapers, for example, and washing machines, and bibs and strollers... lots of facilities.... but to think of it, the actual parenting is harder now. It is easier for a child to go the wrong path in these days...." As she thought, she brought up both pros and cons of parenting now and then, and then she concluded, "Physical work is easier now, and conveniences are more, but the actual parenting is harder."
I tend to agree with her.
I had made this list before I asked you for your opinions.
[By the way I am talking only about the class of society that I live in and am familiar with. ]
Things that are easier now -
- Modern conveniences, for e.g. Disposable diapers. My mom tells me she used to wake up 2-3 times at night to change us! Ugh! As for the times they went out? They had to carry change and the effort... phew! While now? Fit it, tape it down, forget it is our mantra!
- Electronic gadgets for ease of work - Washing machines to wash the piles of clothes, mixers to grind food, microwaves to heat food, refrigerators to store food... I could go on. I shudder to think how they managed then.
- Ease of travelling. Cars are very common. Air travel is affordable. Three days in a train with an infant is unthinkable, isn't it?
- As a woman, I can say this - more involvement of the father in the upbringing of the child. After S~ gets back home, I can hand over charge and put my feet up and relax for a while. It would have been unthinkable in the previous generations.
- Better medical facilities.
More difficult now -
- Too many choices. Starting from - this diaper or that? This baby cereal or that? ... right up to This school or that? Back then, life was so simple.
- Schooling. It was so easy - go to the nearest school, and get admitted. Nothing like pre-research, research, standing in lines overnight for application forms, donations.... and what have you... and then exam pressure.. never ending.
- Peer pressure. - Neighbour's son owns the latest electronic games. Should I buy or not? Friend eats out every night. Child wants to too. How do I explain?
- Too many distractions - easier to go wrong.
- Expenses are much higher. Luxuries of yesterday are necessities of today.
- Roles were clear back then - the man is the provider, the woman is the care-giver. Now, with women holding lucrative careers, the agony of giving up a job, the difficulty of handling both career and motherhood, the guilt, the confusion... not easy.
I received some very interesting inputs in the comments section in my question post, and I urge you to have a look at them.
I was sure my generation would agree with me and say that parenting is harder now, and so I was looking forward to inputs from my parents' generation - and I received quite a few - five or six. Barring my uncle, who says that the grass is always greener on the other side, and says that this is a question that has no answer, everybody else said that parenting is harder now. Interesting, huh?
Usha, who belongs to my mother's generation, sent me a mail which says about everything that I want to say, but she has put it so well that I have just reproduced it here with her permission.
The other mail I received was from Anitha, who has beautifully expressed her views about parenting through the ages. Her analysis and reasoning are excellent. Trying to add anything to that or after that, will be quite useless.
Once again, what do you think?
It is all how you look at it.
But I received this link in the Baby Center bulletin and it got me thinking. In the Indian context, what is it like?
The first person I asked was my mom. "It is easier now", she declared. "You have a million facilities to ease and aid you. Disposable diapers, for example, and washing machines, and bibs and strollers... lots of facilities.... but to think of it, the actual parenting is harder now. It is easier for a child to go the wrong path in these days...." As she thought, she brought up both pros and cons of parenting now and then, and then she concluded, "Physical work is easier now, and conveniences are more, but the actual parenting is harder."
I tend to agree with her.
I had made this list before I asked you for your opinions.
[By the way I am talking only about the class of society that I live in and am familiar with. ]
Things that are easier now -
- Modern conveniences, for e.g. Disposable diapers. My mom tells me she used to wake up 2-3 times at night to change us! Ugh! As for the times they went out? They had to carry change and the effort... phew! While now? Fit it, tape it down, forget it is our mantra!
- Electronic gadgets for ease of work - Washing machines to wash the piles of clothes, mixers to grind food, microwaves to heat food, refrigerators to store food... I could go on. I shudder to think how they managed then.
- Ease of travelling. Cars are very common. Air travel is affordable. Three days in a train with an infant is unthinkable, isn't it?
- As a woman, I can say this - more involvement of the father in the upbringing of the child. After S~ gets back home, I can hand over charge and put my feet up and relax for a while. It would have been unthinkable in the previous generations.
- Better medical facilities.
More difficult now -
- Too many choices. Starting from - this diaper or that? This baby cereal or that? ... right up to This school or that? Back then, life was so simple.
- Schooling. It was so easy - go to the nearest school, and get admitted. Nothing like pre-research, research, standing in lines overnight for application forms, donations.... and what have you... and then exam pressure.. never ending.
- Peer pressure. - Neighbour's son owns the latest electronic games. Should I buy or not? Friend eats out every night. Child wants to too. How do I explain?
- Too many distractions - easier to go wrong.
- Expenses are much higher. Luxuries of yesterday are necessities of today.
- Roles were clear back then - the man is the provider, the woman is the care-giver. Now, with women holding lucrative careers, the agony of giving up a job, the difficulty of handling both career and motherhood, the guilt, the confusion... not easy.
I received some very interesting inputs in the comments section in my question post, and I urge you to have a look at them.
I was sure my generation would agree with me and say that parenting is harder now, and so I was looking forward to inputs from my parents' generation - and I received quite a few - five or six. Barring my uncle, who says that the grass is always greener on the other side, and says that this is a question that has no answer, everybody else said that parenting is harder now. Interesting, huh?
Usha, who belongs to my mother's generation, sent me a mail which says about everything that I want to say, but she has put it so well that I have just reproduced it here with her permission.
Parenthood has always been an enormous task - earlier one had to be a parent , Guru, a role model - I mean until about 150 years ago. Children learnt almost everything about life, universe and everything from their parents. Except for the Brahmins who went out and had the benefit of Gurukula. A child's world view, values and concepts of right and wrong - all came from the family and ancestors.
But it was easier in one way because they used authority. One did not question the wisdom of ancestors. Rebellion was very rare as it meant being thrown out of the secure confines of family support. And one did not have many options outside of one's family and well knit community.
And there was enormous family support and a rich pool of experience available to bring up babies which young parents could draw upon.
So in a way parenthood was easier but was it the ideal way to bring up children is an entirely debatable point.
In more recent times, many young parents bring up their children entirely on their own without much family support. So every day is a new learning and the learning can be stressful when the child falls sick or hurts itself as it seems the worst calamity on earth. Blaming oneself for not preventing it, feeling inadequate to handle the crisis and the emotional stress of it all is more without someone more experienced telling them that it happens with every child and is no big deal.
And being available for the child all the time is becoming a problem with both parents working which is a norm now.
And in my time we did not have to worry about whether to use a disposable diaper or cloth, breastfeed or not, career or child - the decisions were known a priori. the priorities were clear. Choices were less.
Today every decision relating to the child is a national debate and with so much information available, there is always a doubt regarding the best thing to do by the child.
And adolescent years can be a lot more angst ridden in today's society. There are a lot more of distractions available to them - films, internet, drugs, alcohol, cigarettes. Authority no longer works with today's children who want a reasonable explanation for everything. "Do it because I am telling you to" wont cut it with them. They will only clam up.
You have got to be aware of what they are up to but without appearing to be too interfering or dominating, give them enough freedom while making sure that the communication channels are open and be available for them when they need your advice - a very tough job.
It certainly was much easier 30 years ago.
But then of course there have been rebels in all ages. Only their percentage was much less then and they seem to be the majority now.
happy parenting. :)
(I am pretty sure I'd have multiple break downs if I were to parent a child today. hehehehe)
The other mail I received was from Anitha, who has beautifully expressed her views about parenting through the ages. Her analysis and reasoning are excellent. Trying to add anything to that or after that, will be quite useless.
It's difficult to say really if parenthood has become more difficult. I guess it has become difficult because of the number of choices available now have multiplied. Otherwise, the core issues remain the same, no?
If you take from the grandparents' time, that was a time when India was fighting for her freedom. Times were hard, there wasn't enough to eat, families were large (which meant more dissensions to deal with), and the primary focus of life was just to get on with living. Parenting never had the focus it has today. Kids were not treated very specially, or singled out for attention. They were part of the gang of kids, and they learned to live as part of the community in order to survive. Parenting must have been a non-issue if you weren't bothered about your kids, but must have been a heck of an issue if you wanted your kid to be different or follow some other path. Of course social ostracism was always dangled in your face if your kid did something out of the ordinary.
If you take from the parents' time, that was a time of hope, when India was learning to stand up on her own feet. Bulk of the middle-class (here I'm making a sweeping generalization) benefited from the public sector and the lifestyle it promoted. Lives were more stable, economic conditions were better, and parenting was not entirely left to group dynamics. The environment was conducive to parenting intervention without pressure on kids or parents.So parenthood, though not exactly a breeze, because it was more involved than the previous generation, was still relatively easy because of the support structure that evolved. The colony was an extended family with more variety.
If you take our time, India is in a state of flux. Liberalization has affected us in several ways, most notably the rise of the nuclear family. With no firm anchor, parenting becomes very challenging because you have to start from scratch. All the rules you lived your life by are now thrown to the wind, and you have to make up new rules because the environment itself has changed so much. Independence is valued more than interdependence, individual is put higher than the community. When this balance is upset, you have more issues to tackle as a parent, because you are redefining what is more important. Parents themselves are under pressure, not just from all other things that the outside world brings, but under pressure to "perform" as a parent. And they compete against other parents in a bid to "out-perform" them, forgetting that there is no raise or promotion in all of this - the prize is the child itself growing up into a balanced individual. Parents apply corporate principles to their personal lives, forgetting that the basic principle that governs a corporate is to make profit, whereas in parenting, there is no profit, only self-satisfaction.
I've rambled enough, so I'll just stop here. Parenting was never easy, and will never be easy. The emphasis on parenting has increased tremendously now because of both necessity and increase in awareness, and that is why it has become even more difficult now.
Once again, what do you think?
Monday, April 14, 2008
An evening at the beach
The evening sea breeze caresses her hair as she sits next to him, playing with grains of sand. He cannot take his eyes off her, but he doesn't want to look too interested. He looks at the rough sea instead, but his eyes stray back to rest on her profile. She is at ease, concentrating on the sand.
He cannot guess what is on her mind. Nor does he know what to say or do now.
He looks at her hand fingering the grains of sand, and feels an irrepressible urge to take her hand in his. He hesitates for a while, and then, on an impulse, takes her hand. She looks at him in mild surprise, smiles, and then continues her sand game with her other hand.
He is stumped. He had expected her to pull her hand away. Now he has no idea what to do with it. He looks at it. It is covered with grains of sand. He laboriously dusts off each grain, one by one.
Soon, he is done, and still he has her hand in his. She is still nonchalantly playing with the sand. He is now getting restless. Her hand feels heavy in his. Putting her hand back on the sand does not seem like the right thing to do. Then what should he do?
Perhaps he should kiss it? That sounds right. Perhaps he should. He takes a look at her again, and then lifts her hand slowly to his face. She stops playing and turns to look at him. His lips brush across her hand.
She looks at him without any expression. Then she pulls her hand away. She reaches for her handbag, opens it and rummages in it for a while, till she finds what she is looking for. She smiles, and hands it to him.
"Lip balm", she says.
He cannot guess what is on her mind. Nor does he know what to say or do now.
He looks at her hand fingering the grains of sand, and feels an irrepressible urge to take her hand in his. He hesitates for a while, and then, on an impulse, takes her hand. She looks at him in mild surprise, smiles, and then continues her sand game with her other hand.
He is stumped. He had expected her to pull her hand away. Now he has no idea what to do with it. He looks at it. It is covered with grains of sand. He laboriously dusts off each grain, one by one.
Soon, he is done, and still he has her hand in his. She is still nonchalantly playing with the sand. He is now getting restless. Her hand feels heavy in his. Putting her hand back on the sand does not seem like the right thing to do. Then what should he do?
Perhaps he should kiss it? That sounds right. Perhaps he should. He takes a look at her again, and then lifts her hand slowly to his face. She stops playing and turns to look at him. His lips brush across her hand.
She looks at him without any expression. Then she pulls her hand away. She reaches for her handbag, opens it and rummages in it for a while, till she finds what she is looking for. She smiles, and hands it to him.
"Lip balm", she says.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
A question about parenthood
Do you think parenthood is easier now than in our parents' time? Or do you think our parents had it easier? What about in our grandparents' time?
Do let me know what you think. I will put down my thoughts on the subject, along with your inputs, after I hear from you all.
Please note that I have said parenthood, and not motherhood. Dads are welcome to write in too. From a mom's perspective, or a dad's perspective, or in general, a parent's perspective.
Do let me know what you think. I will put down my thoughts on the subject, along with your inputs, after I hear from you all.
Please note that I have said parenthood, and not motherhood. Dads are welcome to write in too. From a mom's perspective, or a dad's perspective, or in general, a parent's perspective.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Haircuts
I had my first haircut when I was fifteen days old. After that, my mom was my hairdresser until I was about ten years old. Man, did I need those cuts regularly! Thick, unruly hair needed maintenance - hair that had a penchant of getting food in them [And chewing gum once - a lot of hair had to be cut to get the gum out]. And Amma did the necessary work.
Somewhere down the line, my hair seemed to have become a toy. There is a popular family story of how two of my aunts started cutting my hair, one from each end. When their scissors met, they saw that the right side was longer. So they set out to make amends, and they found that now the left side was longer. It went on, and by the time they were finished with me, I had an army cut.
Then I reached the stage where I was no longer satisfied with just hair trimmings and I started demanding hairstyles. Amma had to give up - she sent me to a nearby beauty parlour. It wasn't really that clean, and Amma despaired - and as if in answer to her prayers, a new parlour opened closer home - and it was perfect. Clean, professional, friendly. There was no looking back. That friendly neighbourhood parlour (FNP) cut my hair for the next decade.
There was never any question of growing my hair. I tried once, and gave up, declaring that either I pass exams or I maintain long hair - I couldn't do both.
When I moved out of Bangalore for my post-grad, I came home often enough to get my haircut at the FNP. Even when we moved to a different area, FNP was close enough to visit whenever the need arose.
The problem started when I moved to Mumbai on work. Not that there was a dearth of parlours - they were a dime a dozen. I counted 15 of them within a 500 m radius of where I lived. All I had to do was find one to my liking.
That's when I would do my Reconnaisance. I would go to a parlour, and look around while I pretended to ask some questions. "What are your timings?" "Are you open on Sundays?" or just something like "How much do you charge for a pedicure?" While I asked questions, I would look around carefully - Are the hairdressers well-groomed? Do the brushes look clean? Are the mirrors scrubbed? Is the floor clean? Does the place smell fresh? Are the people friendly? How do the customers look?
And then I would make my decision - "I just stopped to enquire , I will come by this weekend" and escape, or stay on and get my haircut.
Of course, friendly hairdressers and a clean place do not ensure quality work. But it is just a start. I zeroed in upon a suitable parlour and one haircut went beautifully. For the second one, I told the hairdresser that I wanted it cut shorter than usual this time, because the summer was too hot. I don't know what she understood - she left me looking like Priyanka Gandhi. I like her hairstyle, but not on me! I didn't dare go back.
I started my Reconnaisance again and went to another parlour - further off, but very professional. The no-nonsense assistants were in uniforms, and were very good at their work. I liked the proprietress too, except that she asked me every time, "Are you a Catholic? No? I was quite certain you were." She also loved to thrust a colour catalog in my hand each time, and advise me, "You should really get your hair streaked, you know - it will suit you very well."
It was then time to come back to Bangalore, and then I got married and moved to S~'s home. It is in a locality with many good parlours, so I had no problem deciding on one. The problem arose again when Puttachi was born and I was in my mom's house. I couldn't leave home for too long, FNP was too far off, and there were no good parlours close by. I had a visiting beautician come home once, but she was horrendous at keeping time, and so I didn't call her again.
And then I saw a flyer in the postbox about a new "state-of-the-art" herbal parlour in the next road. I gave the parlour a month's time and then went for my Reconnaisance. A not-very-clean-looking girl was standing outside the not-very-clean garage-parlour. She saw me and said, "Please come in, I will call madam." "Not now", I said hurriedly, "I just came to ask you what time you are usually free, I have to leave my baby and come, you see..can't wait too long for my turn...."
"Oh come annnnytime madam, we are alwayyyys free!" she said chirpily. Poor, innocent, inexperienced girl. Wonder what her Madam would have had to say to that!
I convinced myself that a Mowgli look was cool, until Puttachi was slightly older and I could run to the comfort of FNP.
And now? Now I see Puttachi with the same kind of hair as I have, and I look at her and sigh - history is going to repeat itself...... but much sooner. I bet kids of these days are not the kind that will quietly accept an inexperienced mom's hair trimming for long. How long? That remains to be seen.
Somewhere down the line, my hair seemed to have become a toy. There is a popular family story of how two of my aunts started cutting my hair, one from each end. When their scissors met, they saw that the right side was longer. So they set out to make amends, and they found that now the left side was longer. It went on, and by the time they were finished with me, I had an army cut.
Then I reached the stage where I was no longer satisfied with just hair trimmings and I started demanding hairstyles. Amma had to give up - she sent me to a nearby beauty parlour. It wasn't really that clean, and Amma despaired - and as if in answer to her prayers, a new parlour opened closer home - and it was perfect. Clean, professional, friendly. There was no looking back. That friendly neighbourhood parlour (FNP) cut my hair for the next decade.
There was never any question of growing my hair. I tried once, and gave up, declaring that either I pass exams or I maintain long hair - I couldn't do both.
When I moved out of Bangalore for my post-grad, I came home often enough to get my haircut at the FNP. Even when we moved to a different area, FNP was close enough to visit whenever the need arose.
The problem started when I moved to Mumbai on work. Not that there was a dearth of parlours - they were a dime a dozen. I counted 15 of them within a 500 m radius of where I lived. All I had to do was find one to my liking.
That's when I would do my Reconnaisance. I would go to a parlour, and look around while I pretended to ask some questions. "What are your timings?" "Are you open on Sundays?" or just something like "How much do you charge for a pedicure?" While I asked questions, I would look around carefully - Are the hairdressers well-groomed? Do the brushes look clean? Are the mirrors scrubbed? Is the floor clean? Does the place smell fresh? Are the people friendly? How do the customers look?
And then I would make my decision - "I just stopped to enquire , I will come by this weekend" and escape, or stay on and get my haircut.
Of course, friendly hairdressers and a clean place do not ensure quality work. But it is just a start. I zeroed in upon a suitable parlour and one haircut went beautifully. For the second one, I told the hairdresser that I wanted it cut shorter than usual this time, because the summer was too hot. I don't know what she understood - she left me looking like Priyanka Gandhi. I like her hairstyle, but not on me! I didn't dare go back.
I started my Reconnaisance again and went to another parlour - further off, but very professional. The no-nonsense assistants were in uniforms, and were very good at their work. I liked the proprietress too, except that she asked me every time, "Are you a Catholic? No? I was quite certain you were." She also loved to thrust a colour catalog in my hand each time, and advise me, "You should really get your hair streaked, you know - it will suit you very well."
It was then time to come back to Bangalore, and then I got married and moved to S~'s home. It is in a locality with many good parlours, so I had no problem deciding on one. The problem arose again when Puttachi was born and I was in my mom's house. I couldn't leave home for too long, FNP was too far off, and there were no good parlours close by. I had a visiting beautician come home once, but she was horrendous at keeping time, and so I didn't call her again.
And then I saw a flyer in the postbox about a new "state-of-the-art" herbal parlour in the next road. I gave the parlour a month's time and then went for my Reconnaisance. A not-very-clean-looking girl was standing outside the not-very-clean garage-parlour. She saw me and said, "Please come in, I will call madam." "Not now", I said hurriedly, "I just came to ask you what time you are usually free, I have to leave my baby and come, you see..can't wait too long for my turn...."
"Oh come annnnytime madam, we are alwayyyys free!" she said chirpily. Poor, innocent, inexperienced girl. Wonder what her Madam would have had to say to that!
I convinced myself that a Mowgli look was cool, until Puttachi was slightly older and I could run to the comfort of FNP.
And now? Now I see Puttachi with the same kind of hair as I have, and I look at her and sigh - history is going to repeat itself...... but much sooner. I bet kids of these days are not the kind that will quietly accept an inexperienced mom's hair trimming for long. How long? That remains to be seen.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
LOTR - The Book and The Movies
Lord of the Rings - I finished reading the book and watching the three movies. The book was very good, and I was sorry to finish it and say goodbye to all the characters I had come to love. The movies were very well made. It is very difficult to remain true to a book like this, but the movies did a splendid job nevertheless. Watching the movie brought even more life into the characters. I also like the way the second and the third parts start unapologetically without a recap or an explanation, and just go on, expecting you to have watched the previous part/s. What an effort it must have been to make those movies!
LOTR is hardly the best book I have read, but it has been one of the greatest entertainers. It is an epic by itself, in size, detail and characters. I was in a completely different world while I read it. Somebody who discovers the Mahabharatha anew would probably feel this way. And the analogy wouldn't be too far off - I have read and heard that JRR Tolkien based this story on many existing myths and legends. A very clever book indeed.
It is a book about the perennial favourite - victory of good over evil. It is a book about friendship, courage, valour. About faith, determination and grit. It tells you that anybody, however small, can make a difference. It also shows you that the most unlikely person can come out a hero. There are kings, there are brave warriors, there are beings who are forced to be brave by circumstance, but the real hero of the story, in my eyes, is a supposedly slow-witted gardener - because of his devotion and belief and pure determination.
Anyway, like I said, I have been living in a different world until now. Here are a few anecdotes which will tell you how immersed I was in LOTR.
****
Me: Puttachi has a runny nose.
Mom: Oh, what are you giving her?
Me: Fangorn, err.. Aragorn... errr I mean, Phenergan.
[Fangorn - name of a forest, Aragorn - a leading character]
****
We were driving on the road and I spotted a shop which had displayed car tyre frames.
Me, half asleep, wondered "Why have they displayed shields here? Where are the spears?"
****
Road rage is now fun - we call the erring motorists Gollum, Wormtongue and Orc names.
****
We were watching A History of Violence, starring Viggo Mortensen, who played Aragorn in LOTR the movies.
Me: S~, I missed that dialogue.. what did Aragorn Son of Arathorn say?
S~: (Rolls his eyes)
****
S~: So you have finished the book. Shall I return it (to colleague)?
Me: Not yet!
S~: Why?
Me: (Sheepishly) Revision.....
Yes, I am reluctant to say goodbye to my friends Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin and Aragorn and Gandalf and most of all, Gimli and Legolas!
But I must. There are far too many books to be read, and life is too short!
LOTR is hardly the best book I have read, but it has been one of the greatest entertainers. It is an epic by itself, in size, detail and characters. I was in a completely different world while I read it. Somebody who discovers the Mahabharatha anew would probably feel this way. And the analogy wouldn't be too far off - I have read and heard that JRR Tolkien based this story on many existing myths and legends. A very clever book indeed.
It is a book about the perennial favourite - victory of good over evil. It is a book about friendship, courage, valour. About faith, determination and grit. It tells you that anybody, however small, can make a difference. It also shows you that the most unlikely person can come out a hero. There are kings, there are brave warriors, there are beings who are forced to be brave by circumstance, but the real hero of the story, in my eyes, is a supposedly slow-witted gardener - because of his devotion and belief and pure determination.
Anyway, like I said, I have been living in a different world until now. Here are a few anecdotes which will tell you how immersed I was in LOTR.
****
Me: Puttachi has a runny nose.
Mom: Oh, what are you giving her?
Me: Fangorn, err.. Aragorn... errr I mean, Phenergan.
[Fangorn - name of a forest, Aragorn - a leading character]
****
We were driving on the road and I spotted a shop which had displayed car tyre frames.
Me, half asleep, wondered "Why have they displayed shields here? Where are the spears?"
****
Road rage is now fun - we call the erring motorists Gollum, Wormtongue and Orc names.
****
We were watching A History of Violence, starring Viggo Mortensen, who played Aragorn in LOTR the movies.
Me: S~, I missed that dialogue.. what did Aragorn Son of Arathorn say?
S~: (Rolls his eyes)
****
S~: So you have finished the book. Shall I return it (to colleague)?
Me: Not yet!
S~: Why?
Me: (Sheepishly) Revision.....
Yes, I am reluctant to say goodbye to my friends Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin and Aragorn and Gandalf and most of all, Gimli and Legolas!
But I must. There are far too many books to be read, and life is too short!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Couple
There are couples, and there are couples. But this couple was different.
He was tall, and broad. He had a swarthy face, and hair that could have been a wig used by the villains of yesteryears to hide a bald pate. Except that he didn't really look like a villain - he was grim, but mild. He walked stiffly, and his hands were always in his pockets. He always looked at the ground.
She was thin, almost frail. Her salwar kurta hung from her frame like from a clothes hanger. Her wavy hair was tied back with a clip, she walked with a slight stoop, and was slightly pigeon footed. She always had a handbag on one shoulder.
My sis and I met them every evening on our way back from music class, walking on the uneven footpath of 8th main.
There was something different about this couple. As persons, there was nothing striking about them. They were both plain looking. Individually, you wouldn't have taken a second look at them. But as a couple, there was something that drew you to them.
They always walked, whispering softly to each other. They never ever smiled, but they didn't look sad either. It was as if they were always having a calm, serious discussion.
They never looked at each other. The man always looked at the ground, while the woman's head was half turned towards the man, at an angle of 45 degrees. She never looked at him, either, she looked at some far away point.
Their ages were indeterminate. As teenagers, we weren't experts at guessing ages, but we couldn't place them in any decade. We finally decided that they must be in their thirties - they definitely looked old enough to be married. The man could quite well be forty, but we weren't sure.
Every evening, it was the same sight. The two of them walking rather aimlessly on the crooked footpath of that busy main road, very occasionally sitting on the steps of a commercial complex and talking unhurriedly.
Were they married? We thought not. We didn't know any married people who would go out in the evening, walk without purpose on uncomfortable footpaths and sit on steps of buildings and talk, and then go back home. They looked more like office-goers, or colleagues who met after office hours and had discussions.
Another strange thing about them was that we couldn't fathom from which part of India they were. Having lived in a colony with people from all over the India, we were quite good at guessing which state a person hailed from. With these two, we couldn't even guess whether they were from the north of India or the south or the east or the west.
Once, we decided to catch them in conversation so that we would know what language they spoke in. For half a dozen evenings, we slowed down when we crossed them, and deadened our ears to the sound of traffic to try to catch what they were saying. But they always stopped speaking when anybody was around. Just once, we heard the sound of the woman's voice trailing off - a soft voice, with a neutral tone. But it was too less of a sample to take a guess at the language.
There they remained - the strange mystery couple, walking together every evening, for years.
I am sure you are looking forward to a surprise end - you are thinking that I am going to tell you that I met them again after fifteen years, Chintu-Mintu in tow, or something like that. I wish I could.
But this is one of the stories that you strive to complete by yourself, one of the mysteries that you solve in your head and convince yourself that you have the right solution.
This is one of the stories without a conclusion.
He was tall, and broad. He had a swarthy face, and hair that could have been a wig used by the villains of yesteryears to hide a bald pate. Except that he didn't really look like a villain - he was grim, but mild. He walked stiffly, and his hands were always in his pockets. He always looked at the ground.
She was thin, almost frail. Her salwar kurta hung from her frame like from a clothes hanger. Her wavy hair was tied back with a clip, she walked with a slight stoop, and was slightly pigeon footed. She always had a handbag on one shoulder.
My sis and I met them every evening on our way back from music class, walking on the uneven footpath of 8th main.
There was something different about this couple. As persons, there was nothing striking about them. They were both plain looking. Individually, you wouldn't have taken a second look at them. But as a couple, there was something that drew you to them.
They always walked, whispering softly to each other. They never ever smiled, but they didn't look sad either. It was as if they were always having a calm, serious discussion.
They never looked at each other. The man always looked at the ground, while the woman's head was half turned towards the man, at an angle of 45 degrees. She never looked at him, either, she looked at some far away point.
Their ages were indeterminate. As teenagers, we weren't experts at guessing ages, but we couldn't place them in any decade. We finally decided that they must be in their thirties - they definitely looked old enough to be married. The man could quite well be forty, but we weren't sure.
Every evening, it was the same sight. The two of them walking rather aimlessly on the crooked footpath of that busy main road, very occasionally sitting on the steps of a commercial complex and talking unhurriedly.
Were they married? We thought not. We didn't know any married people who would go out in the evening, walk without purpose on uncomfortable footpaths and sit on steps of buildings and talk, and then go back home. They looked more like office-goers, or colleagues who met after office hours and had discussions.
Another strange thing about them was that we couldn't fathom from which part of India they were. Having lived in a colony with people from all over the India, we were quite good at guessing which state a person hailed from. With these two, we couldn't even guess whether they were from the north of India or the south or the east or the west.
Once, we decided to catch them in conversation so that we would know what language they spoke in. For half a dozen evenings, we slowed down when we crossed them, and deadened our ears to the sound of traffic to try to catch what they were saying. But they always stopped speaking when anybody was around. Just once, we heard the sound of the woman's voice trailing off - a soft voice, with a neutral tone. But it was too less of a sample to take a guess at the language.
There they remained - the strange mystery couple, walking together every evening, for years.
I am sure you are looking forward to a surprise end - you are thinking that I am going to tell you that I met them again after fifteen years, Chintu-Mintu in tow, or something like that. I wish I could.
But this is one of the stories that you strive to complete by yourself, one of the mysteries that you solve in your head and convince yourself that you have the right solution.
This is one of the stories without a conclusion.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Why chronicle?
Here is a part of a comment for the previous post by LAK.
My parents stayed in Germany for a year when I was about two years old. Communication, not being what it is now (to put it mildly), there was hardly any interaction between the family back home and my parents. But everybody wanted to know the latest antics of the only grandchild of the family (me), and so my mom wrote long letters back home on thin onion paper. She wrote about me, what I do, things I liked, things I said... and when she came back, she collected the letters from them, and kept them with her. She showed them to me when I was a teenager, and I had the greatest time reading them.
These letters contain those moments, those stories, which are run-of-the-mill, ordinary, but these mirror the real two year old me. These little things, which would otherwise have been forgotten, since they aren't too dramatic, were handed back to me to relish.
There are stories in every family about every child - stories that circulate wildly, are retold at every gathering. Stories like the time Peevee was missing for hours and was then found in my parents' room, playing with talcum powder that she had spilled all over the bed and floor. Like the story about my then two year old cousin K1 who came out of the room carrying his new born brother K2 like a kitten, and mouthing, "Nange paapa ishTa." (I like baby).
These stories, being dramatic, are remembered, but what about those other moments - a child's first witticism, a cute habit he had - what about those? Most of them fade out of memory.
Unless of course, a treasure happens to come by in the form of my mother's, or LAK's letters - which is one of the main reasons I keep an account of Puttachi's antics.
There is no guarantee that Puttachi will grow up and enjoy what I have written about her. But I believe she will. She will probably marvel at the number of unknown people who followed her life. But again, she might not like it either, which, if she takes after me, is improbable.
Anyway, if it so happens that she couldn't care less for these records, I will anyway most definitely enjoy it. I will probably look back at it, and laugh perhaps, of how naive a mother I was, or how different Puttachi was back then.
Either way, blog I will.
Loved the post. Tell you what, do save this in hard copy as well, for her to read when she grows up---you won't be able to repeat these words then---in fact you'll love to read it then too. When my kids were small, I wrote about their antics to my mom, sis and friends. Now I've got back those letters from my mom and the kids and I love going thru those handwritten snippets of emotion.
My parents stayed in Germany for a year when I was about two years old. Communication, not being what it is now (to put it mildly), there was hardly any interaction between the family back home and my parents. But everybody wanted to know the latest antics of the only grandchild of the family (me), and so my mom wrote long letters back home on thin onion paper. She wrote about me, what I do, things I liked, things I said... and when she came back, she collected the letters from them, and kept them with her. She showed them to me when I was a teenager, and I had the greatest time reading them.
These letters contain those moments, those stories, which are run-of-the-mill, ordinary, but these mirror the real two year old me. These little things, which would otherwise have been forgotten, since they aren't too dramatic, were handed back to me to relish.
There are stories in every family about every child - stories that circulate wildly, are retold at every gathering. Stories like the time Peevee was missing for hours and was then found in my parents' room, playing with talcum powder that she had spilled all over the bed and floor. Like the story about my then two year old cousin K1 who came out of the room carrying his new born brother K2 like a kitten, and mouthing, "Nange paapa ishTa." (I like baby).
These stories, being dramatic, are remembered, but what about those other moments - a child's first witticism, a cute habit he had - what about those? Most of them fade out of memory.
Unless of course, a treasure happens to come by in the form of my mother's, or LAK's letters - which is one of the main reasons I keep an account of Puttachi's antics.
There is no guarantee that Puttachi will grow up and enjoy what I have written about her. But I believe she will. She will probably marvel at the number of unknown people who followed her life. But again, she might not like it either, which, if she takes after me, is improbable.
Anyway, if it so happens that she couldn't care less for these records, I will anyway most definitely enjoy it. I will probably look back at it, and laugh perhaps, of how naive a mother I was, or how different Puttachi was back then.
Either way, blog I will.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Ten Months
The main update for this month is that Puttachi Walks. Not yet, as in walking all about the house without support, but she has taken her first steps, and she gets better each day. With the use of her legs, she has simultaneously found another new use of her feet - exploration. What was previously being examined with her hands and mouth, now needs to be explored with her feet too... leading to more falls!
She has been climbing steps (crawling) for a while now.. but she hadn't climbed down stairs until last week. She has a cute way of climbing down single stairs. She goes right up to the edge, swings her legs over, assumes sitting position, then stands wobbling on the lower step, then stoops carefully, and sits down on the lower step.
For the rest of the update, I will give it to you in the style of a Tag that Wunderyearz has tagged me with.
Before I start, I will describe to you The Exciroutine - what she does when she is excited (which is very often). She draws herself up to her full height, takes a deep breath, her eyes open wide, her mouth twists in a near grimace. Her arms fly up to her shoulder height, and she flaps them about like wings. Sometimes, it is like beating invisible drums. Simultaneously, her palms screw-unscrew-screew-unscrew an invisible light bulb at lightning speed. Sometimes, the action is that of locking-unlocking an invisible lock with an invisible key. While her hands are busy, her feet are rubbed against each other like a fly rubs its "hands" together. Occasionally she shakes her body, like the way you would shake a container into which you have just poured sugar, to settle the contents.
Things Puttachi is passionate about.
- Me.
- Her Papa.
- Dogs. You need the strength of three people to control her if she as much as spots a dog. She performs The Exciroutine. She squeals and roars for all the neighbourhood to hear. At least one dog has been known to run away from this crazy child, terrified.
- Animals, in general. Elephants, lions, and other animals on discovery, Cows on the Road. When there are animals on TV, she crawls right up to the TV stand, stands up and tries to touch the screen.
When we ask her "Puttachi, what does a cow say?" She says "Ambaaaaa!" And "What does a tiger say?" She roars.
- Bougainvillea. Wherever she spots the bougainvillea, she gives a long drawn squeal, does The Exciroutine, and then bends her head sideways and looks at the bougainvillea almost with love.
- Flowers, in general.
- Doormats and footrugs. She crawls right up to the doormat, stops, and then slyly looks towards me to see if I am watching. When she sees that I indeed am, she giggles naughtily, sits down very close to the doormat and starts The Exciroutine. I can almost hear the voices in her head.
Devil - Go ahead, touch it!
Angel - No, no, Amma is watching.
Devil - Go on, Puttachi, it looks so inviting... nothing will happen!
Angel - No, no don't, Amma said no, it is dirty.
Devil - Go on! There is a nice looking scrap of paper right there.. I am sure it will taste heavenly. Go ahead, take it!
The Devil usually wins, and a hand hovers over the doormat, then she looks up at me sideways again.
Me: Puttachi, NOOOOO!
Puttachi takes hand close to doormat.
In a flash, I am over her, scoop her up and take her away, with her laughing wickedly and delightedly. It is almost like she expected this, but thought she would try her luck anyway.
- Kids of all ages. She thinks everybody is her friend by default. When shy children do not respond to her, she bends towards them nonetheless and touches them softly on the cheek, bends her head sideways, smiles and gurgles.
- Music. She hums along to any piece of music. She sways to it, and sometimes dances too. She then pats her leg like a Taala.
- Ta-ta. As in going out. A few days ago, 90 percent of the intelligible words she spoke consisted of the word "Amma". Now, 90 percent of the time, she says "Ta-ta". She makes for the main door/balcony saying "Ta-ta, ta-ta". If she sees anybody dressed to go out/wearing shoes, they've had it. They have to escape when she is not looking.
Things she does that drives me/us crazy:
- The fact that she wants to put everything, and I mean EVERYTHING into her mouth. But just sometimes, for example, she takes a scrap of paper to her mouth, then turns and looks at me. I shake my head, and she puts it down, surprising me completely!
- Put her down and she has to make for the nearest forbidden item. Sometimes I feel that the entire day, all I have done is bring her back from where she is, to safety.
- When she has had enough food, she spits it out with a vengeance. Even after she has done spitting, she spits out saliva, as if to get rid of the taste. Then she proceeds to play with whatever she has spat out.
- It is next to impossible to keep her in one place when bathing/changing/drying her hair.
- In the supermarket, she picks up things from shelves as we pass them by, and has often knocked down many things.
- She is never still. Her hands, legs and head are ALWAYS in motion except when she is asleep.
Things she says often:
- Amma.
- Papa
- Ta-ta
- Ajji/Ajja/Thatha - for her grandparents
- Mamm-mamm (food)
- Ai-gi-giyaaa/Au-gu-guyaaaa/Ingi-yaa/Ugm/Ibn (No apparent meaning)
- Umba (no apparent meaning)
- Dir-dir-dir-dir-dir/Gir-gir-gir-gir (When irritated)
- Phhrrrrrrrr (spitting air - when frustrated)
- Aa-aa-aa (rising notes) - when happy, when she sees something she likes.
- She repeats anything we say immediately.
Books she read recently:
You mean books she ATE recently. (;)) - Ok seriously.. she loves to look at books.
- Baby's first colours - she loves this.
- Mickey-Donald's baby books
- The clownfish
- Nursery Rhymes
- "Don't cut my hair!"
- Animal Record Breakers - her current favourite.
... and all newspapers and magazines
Songs she listens to over and over
All sung by me of course --
- Aane banthondaane
- Nammooralli Shivanobba
- Naayi mari naayi mari
- Putaani Krishna
- Kuri mari Byaa
- Ditties that I made using her name.
- Oh Susanna
- Yeh Dhara
- Sa-re-ga-ma.
- Old McDonald
- Where's the Party Tonight
.. and many many more.
Things that makes her the person she is:
- Her smile.
- Her eyes - big, black, guileless
- Her eyelashes - oh, how she uses them to her advantage, batting them oh so innocently!
- Her hair - that frames her face, sets it off.
- Her enthusiasm for everything.
- Friendliness - man, animal and object - all are her friends.
- Her very animated and expressive face. She uses her eyebrows, lips, cheeks, chin, everything to convey the expression of her choice.
She has been climbing steps (crawling) for a while now.. but she hadn't climbed down stairs until last week. She has a cute way of climbing down single stairs. She goes right up to the edge, swings her legs over, assumes sitting position, then stands wobbling on the lower step, then stoops carefully, and sits down on the lower step.
For the rest of the update, I will give it to you in the style of a Tag that Wunderyearz has tagged me with.
Before I start, I will describe to you The Exciroutine - what she does when she is excited (which is very often). She draws herself up to her full height, takes a deep breath, her eyes open wide, her mouth twists in a near grimace. Her arms fly up to her shoulder height, and she flaps them about like wings. Sometimes, it is like beating invisible drums. Simultaneously, her palms screw-unscrew-screew-unscrew an invisible light bulb at lightning speed. Sometimes, the action is that of locking-unlocking an invisible lock with an invisible key. While her hands are busy, her feet are rubbed against each other like a fly rubs its "hands" together. Occasionally she shakes her body, like the way you would shake a container into which you have just poured sugar, to settle the contents.
Things Puttachi is passionate about.
- Me.
- Her Papa.
- Dogs. You need the strength of three people to control her if she as much as spots a dog. She performs The Exciroutine. She squeals and roars for all the neighbourhood to hear. At least one dog has been known to run away from this crazy child, terrified.
- Animals, in general. Elephants, lions, and other animals on discovery, Cows on the Road. When there are animals on TV, she crawls right up to the TV stand, stands up and tries to touch the screen.
When we ask her "Puttachi, what does a cow say?" She says "Ambaaaaa!" And "What does a tiger say?" She roars.
- Bougainvillea. Wherever she spots the bougainvillea, she gives a long drawn squeal, does The Exciroutine, and then bends her head sideways and looks at the bougainvillea almost with love.
- Flowers, in general.
- Doormats and footrugs. She crawls right up to the doormat, stops, and then slyly looks towards me to see if I am watching. When she sees that I indeed am, she giggles naughtily, sits down very close to the doormat and starts The Exciroutine. I can almost hear the voices in her head.
Devil - Go ahead, touch it!
Angel - No, no, Amma is watching.
Devil - Go on, Puttachi, it looks so inviting... nothing will happen!
Angel - No, no don't, Amma said no, it is dirty.
Devil - Go on! There is a nice looking scrap of paper right there.. I am sure it will taste heavenly. Go ahead, take it!
The Devil usually wins, and a hand hovers over the doormat, then she looks up at me sideways again.
Me: Puttachi, NOOOOO!
Puttachi takes hand close to doormat.
In a flash, I am over her, scoop her up and take her away, with her laughing wickedly and delightedly. It is almost like she expected this, but thought she would try her luck anyway.
- Kids of all ages. She thinks everybody is her friend by default. When shy children do not respond to her, she bends towards them nonetheless and touches them softly on the cheek, bends her head sideways, smiles and gurgles.
- Music. She hums along to any piece of music. She sways to it, and sometimes dances too. She then pats her leg like a Taala.
- Ta-ta. As in going out. A few days ago, 90 percent of the intelligible words she spoke consisted of the word "Amma". Now, 90 percent of the time, she says "Ta-ta". She makes for the main door/balcony saying "Ta-ta, ta-ta". If she sees anybody dressed to go out/wearing shoes, they've had it. They have to escape when she is not looking.
Things she does that drives me/us crazy:
- The fact that she wants to put everything, and I mean EVERYTHING into her mouth. But just sometimes, for example, she takes a scrap of paper to her mouth, then turns and looks at me. I shake my head, and she puts it down, surprising me completely!
- Put her down and she has to make for the nearest forbidden item. Sometimes I feel that the entire day, all I have done is bring her back from where she is, to safety.
- When she has had enough food, she spits it out with a vengeance. Even after she has done spitting, she spits out saliva, as if to get rid of the taste. Then she proceeds to play with whatever she has spat out.
- It is next to impossible to keep her in one place when bathing/changing/drying her hair.
- In the supermarket, she picks up things from shelves as we pass them by, and has often knocked down many things.
- She is never still. Her hands, legs and head are ALWAYS in motion except when she is asleep.
Things she says often:
- Amma.
- Papa
- Ta-ta
- Ajji/Ajja/Thatha - for her grandparents
- Mamm-mamm (food)
- Ai-gi-giyaaa/Au-gu-guyaaaa/Ingi-yaa/Ugm/Ibn (No apparent meaning)
- Umba (no apparent meaning)
- Dir-dir-dir-dir-dir/Gir-gir-gir-gir (When irritated)
- Phhrrrrrrrr (spitting air - when frustrated)
- Aa-aa-aa (rising notes) - when happy, when she sees something she likes.
- She repeats anything we say immediately.
Books she read recently:
You mean books she ATE recently. (;)) - Ok seriously.. she loves to look at books.
- Baby's first colours - she loves this.
- Mickey-Donald's baby books
- The clownfish
- Nursery Rhymes
- "Don't cut my hair!"
- Animal Record Breakers - her current favourite.
... and all newspapers and magazines
Songs she listens to over and over
All sung by me of course --
- Aane banthondaane
- Nammooralli Shivanobba
- Naayi mari naayi mari
- Putaani Krishna
- Kuri mari Byaa
- Ditties that I made using her name.
- Oh Susanna
- Yeh Dhara
- Sa-re-ga-ma.
- Old McDonald
- Where's the Party Tonight
.. and many many more.
Things that makes her the person she is:
- Her smile.
- Her eyes - big, black, guileless
- Her eyelashes - oh, how she uses them to her advantage, batting them oh so innocently!
- Her hair - that frames her face, sets it off.
- Her enthusiasm for everything.
- Friendliness - man, animal and object - all are her friends.
- Her very animated and expressive face. She uses her eyebrows, lips, cheeks, chin, everything to convey the expression of her choice.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
A long, long tag.
A very self-indulgent tag, courtesy I Love Lucy.
Read at your own risk.
Ten things you wish you could say to people right now (don't list names):
1. Please stay put for just half an hour longer.
2. Call me!
3. I miss you :(
4. Keep in touch, dude!
5. &%$& (&$@# %$#!@#!!!!!
6. Stop wasting time, silly! Just go ahead and do it!
7. I appreciate your concern but I am doing what I think is right.
8. We really should meet more often.
9. I should have made it easier for you.
10. I love you!
Nine Things About Yourself:
I've written a lot about myself in many previous tags - I can't think of anything new to hold your interest - so I pass this :D If you want to know about me, I direct you to the Tags page.
Eight Ways To Win Your Heart:
1. Smile a genuine smile.
2. Talk a bit, and let me talk a bit.
3. Be frank, not rude.
4. Respect my feelings.
5. Listen to me.
6. Offer a shoulder whenever I need it.
7. Make me laugh.
8. Give me my privacy.
Seven Things That Cross Your Mind A Lot:
1. What shall I feed Puttachi next?
2. Where shall we go today?
3. What will x/y/z be doing now?
4. When will Puttachi go to sleep?
5. When will I see x/y/z again?
6. When will I be able to do what I want to do?
7. What if...?
Six Things You Wish You Never Did:
1. Try to be someone I am not.
2. Enter the software industry.
3. Try to please people.
4. Let people's comments affect me.
5. Read novels too much, instead of going out more.
6. Be rude or indifferent to my loved ones.
Five Turn-Offs:
1. Foul language
2. Body odour and bad breath.
3. Crowding me (both physically and emotionally)
4. Roving eyes.
5. Chauvinism.
Four Turn-Ons
1. An honest smile.
2. Sparkling eyes.
3. Warmth
4. Approachability.
Three Things You Want To Do Before You Die
1. Travel a lot.
2. Run a marathon.
3. Write a book.
Two Smileys that Describe You
1. ;)
2. :D
One Confession
I am disorganized.
There, I have bared my heart like I have never done before :D
Read at your own risk.
Ten things you wish you could say to people right now (don't list names):
1. Please stay put for just half an hour longer.
2. Call me!
3. I miss you :(
4. Keep in touch, dude!
5. &%$& (&$@# %$#!@#!!!!!
6. Stop wasting time, silly! Just go ahead and do it!
7. I appreciate your concern but I am doing what I think is right.
8. We really should meet more often.
9. I should have made it easier for you.
10. I love you!
Nine Things About Yourself:
I've written a lot about myself in many previous tags - I can't think of anything new to hold your interest - so I pass this :D If you want to know about me, I direct you to the Tags page.
Eight Ways To Win Your Heart:
1. Smile a genuine smile.
2. Talk a bit, and let me talk a bit.
3. Be frank, not rude.
4. Respect my feelings.
5. Listen to me.
6. Offer a shoulder whenever I need it.
7. Make me laugh.
8. Give me my privacy.
Seven Things That Cross Your Mind A Lot:
1. What shall I feed Puttachi next?
2. Where shall we go today?
3. What will x/y/z be doing now?
4. When will Puttachi go to sleep?
5. When will I see x/y/z again?
6. When will I be able to do what I want to do?
7. What if...?
Six Things You Wish You Never Did:
1. Try to be someone I am not.
2. Enter the software industry.
3. Try to please people.
4. Let people's comments affect me.
5. Read novels too much, instead of going out more.
6. Be rude or indifferent to my loved ones.
Five Turn-Offs:
1. Foul language
2. Body odour and bad breath.
3. Crowding me (both physically and emotionally)
4. Roving eyes.
5. Chauvinism.
Four Turn-Ons
1. An honest smile.
2. Sparkling eyes.
3. Warmth
4. Approachability.
Three Things You Want To Do Before You Die
1. Travel a lot.
2. Run a marathon.
3. Write a book.
Two Smileys that Describe You
1. ;)
2. :D
One Confession
I am disorganized.
There, I have bared my heart like I have never done before :D
Monday, March 17, 2008
The Right Mindset
My sis sent me this excellent link about the work of Carol Dweck, a Stanford psychologist, and her book "Mindset: The New Psychology of Success".
While I urge you to read the article completely, I will highlight a few points here which appealed to me particularly.
I have always wondered what it is that makes some people successful. Why they strive, achieve, and reach where they want to, and go further. Why what works for one doesn't work for another. Is it motivation? Is it innate talent? Is it the ability to work hard?
Carol Dweck tried to figure it out, and...
When she tried to explore why some people treated obstacles as challenges, where other people became discouraged by it, she found...
Her research led her to conclude that there are two kinds of people - Those with "Learning Goals", and those with "Performance Goals", i.e. The former want to increase their ability, while the latter want to show off their ability.
See this excellent diagram for the complete picture.
There is one more important thing that she says.
If you have been reading through this and increasingly feeling that you are one of those with a fixed mind-set, there is hope for you. Dweck says it is definitely possible to change your beliefs.
Dweck has also applied her theory to kids' moral education. Here's a sample - of how to motivate your child.
Reading this article has set my brain whirring. I hope it does the same to you.
While I urge you to read the article completely, I will highlight a few points here which appealed to me particularly.
I have always wondered what it is that makes some people successful. Why they strive, achieve, and reach where they want to, and go further. Why what works for one doesn't work for another. Is it motivation? Is it innate talent? Is it the ability to work hard?
Carol Dweck tried to figure it out, and...
The key, she found, isn’t ability; it’s whether you look at ability as something inherent that needs to be demonstrated or as something that can be developed.
What’s more, Dweck has shown that people can learn to adopt the latter belief and make dramatic strides in performance.
When she tried to explore why some people treated obstacles as challenges, where other people became discouraged by it, she found...
People who attributed their failures to lack of ability [...] would become discouraged even in areas where they were capable. Those who thought they simply hadn’t tried hard enough, on the other hand, would be fueled by setbacks.
Her research led her to conclude that there are two kinds of people - Those with "Learning Goals", and those with "Performance Goals", i.e. The former want to increase their ability, while the latter want to show off their ability.
People with performance goals, she reasoned, think intelligence is fixed from birth. People with learning goals have a growth mind-set about intelligence, believing it can be developed.
See this excellent diagram for the complete picture.
There is one more important thing that she says.
But aren’t there plenty of people who believe in innate ability and in the notion that nothing comes without effort? Logically, the two ideas are compatible. But psychologically, explains Dweck, many people who believe in fixed intelligence also think you shouldn’t need hard work to do well. [...] “The fallacy comes when people generalize it to the belief that effort on any task, even very hard ones, implies low ability,” Dweck says.
If you have been reading through this and increasingly feeling that you are one of those with a fixed mind-set, there is hope for you. Dweck says it is definitely possible to change your beliefs.
Dweck has also applied her theory to kids' moral education. Here's a sample - of how to motivate your child.
Reading this article has set my brain whirring. I hope it does the same to you.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Geometry
For some reason, I remembered Geometry yesterday. I realized with a start that it had been one of my favourite subjects in school. I wonder why I liked it so much. Perhaps it was because it was "different", a break from the monotony. You had to draw, and I liked drawing. Perhaps it was because we got to use a lovely, shiny Geometry Box, and the fascinating instruments inside. Or perhaps, the subject simply appealed to me - who knows?
I remember my first (and only!) Geometry box so well. It was an orange Omega pencil box, with a blurred cherubic kid smiling on it. Inside, sitting prettily in an orangish-red frame, were the shiny divider (the purpose of which is still vague to me), and the compass (the instrument most misused). Below these were the two set squares, a protractor, and a small 6 inch ruler. I loved to take all the instruments out, and arrange them neatly by the side of my book while I drew.
Geometry for me goes nearly synonymously with our first Geometry teacher. She was extremely particular about everything - what we had in our boxes, and how we drew.
Other than the little pencil that we affixed to the compass, there had to be two extra little pencils in your box, all sharpened to perfection. There had to be three long pencils at least, which protruted high above your hand when you clasped it. Again, they had to be very sharp. Other than this, you had to have a sharpener (or mender, as we called it back then) handy, for emergencies. Clutch pencils (or pen pencils, as we called them), though enjoying a lot of snob value otherwise, were explicitly taboo in Geometry class.
Our drawings had to be perfect. A double line, or a vague arc, or worse, a point that was too huge, would bring out the volcano in the teacher. "Look at this point!" She would roar. "It is as big as my bindi!" She would then proceed to cross out the entire diagram with the dreaded red pen. She has also been known to throw particularly untidy books right across the classroom, and throw unsharpened pencils directly into the dustbin.
We would draw our diagrams with painful care, keeping our erasers handy. (We called erasers "rubbers" then. Oh well.) "Scent" rubbers smelt good and looked pretty, but left dark grey marks when erased with them. So it had to be good old Natraj or Camlin erasers. After finishing the diagram, we would take it to the teacher, and stand before her, trembling. In other classes, we could look forward to "Good" or "Neat" remarks. But in Geometry class, all we hoped for was just the teacher's initials. But more often then not, we came back holding pages full of deep red gashes, and stinging rebukes ringing in our ears.
But I must say this for us, towards the end of the year, most of us escaped without red marks in our books - we were finally perfect.
And I must say this for the teacher, her training lasted for years. Many, many years later, during Engineering Graphics, or Electrical Drawing, if I happened to make a smudged line, or a double point, a voice would boom from the deep recesses of my mind.. ".... AS BIG AS MY BINDI.... " and I would hurriedly fish out my eraser and make amends.
Even when Geometry graduated to theorems and postulates, with more theory and less drawing, more lenient teachers and less red marks, it still remained a favourite subject for me.
Did you like Geometry?
I remember my first (and only!) Geometry box so well. It was an orange Omega pencil box, with a blurred cherubic kid smiling on it. Inside, sitting prettily in an orangish-red frame, were the shiny divider (the purpose of which is still vague to me), and the compass (the instrument most misused). Below these were the two set squares, a protractor, and a small 6 inch ruler. I loved to take all the instruments out, and arrange them neatly by the side of my book while I drew.
Geometry for me goes nearly synonymously with our first Geometry teacher. She was extremely particular about everything - what we had in our boxes, and how we drew.
Other than the little pencil that we affixed to the compass, there had to be two extra little pencils in your box, all sharpened to perfection. There had to be three long pencils at least, which protruted high above your hand when you clasped it. Again, they had to be very sharp. Other than this, you had to have a sharpener (or mender, as we called it back then) handy, for emergencies. Clutch pencils (or pen pencils, as we called them), though enjoying a lot of snob value otherwise, were explicitly taboo in Geometry class.
Our drawings had to be perfect. A double line, or a vague arc, or worse, a point that was too huge, would bring out the volcano in the teacher. "Look at this point!" She would roar. "It is as big as my bindi!" She would then proceed to cross out the entire diagram with the dreaded red pen. She has also been known to throw particularly untidy books right across the classroom, and throw unsharpened pencils directly into the dustbin.
We would draw our diagrams with painful care, keeping our erasers handy. (We called erasers "rubbers" then. Oh well.) "Scent" rubbers smelt good and looked pretty, but left dark grey marks when erased with them. So it had to be good old Natraj or Camlin erasers. After finishing the diagram, we would take it to the teacher, and stand before her, trembling. In other classes, we could look forward to "Good" or "Neat" remarks. But in Geometry class, all we hoped for was just the teacher's initials. But more often then not, we came back holding pages full of deep red gashes, and stinging rebukes ringing in our ears.
But I must say this for us, towards the end of the year, most of us escaped without red marks in our books - we were finally perfect.
And I must say this for the teacher, her training lasted for years. Many, many years later, during Engineering Graphics, or Electrical Drawing, if I happened to make a smudged line, or a double point, a voice would boom from the deep recesses of my mind.. ".... AS BIG AS MY BINDI.... " and I would hurriedly fish out my eraser and make amends.
Even when Geometry graduated to theorems and postulates, with more theory and less drawing, more lenient teachers and less red marks, it still remained a favourite subject for me.
Did you like Geometry?
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
A lesson from Discovery.
I was showing Puttachi animals on Discovery yesterday. The programme was about the Wild Hunters in Africa, and I was keeping up a running commentary.
"Look!" I said, "Look how fast the leopard is running - there, it caught the deer..... Look at the leopard eating the deer..."
Just then a hyena entered the scene and tried to sneak away the leopard's kill.
"Look Puttachi!" I said, "That hyena is trying to steal the leopard's food. Should you take something that belongs to others? No! Bad, bad hyena!"
The hyena, however, did manage to snatch the kill away from the leopard, and went a few paces with it, before it was frightened by an elephant. The hyena dropped the kill and ran off, and the leopard retrieved it and dragged it up a tree to feast on it at leisure.
"Yay!" I said, "Look, the leopard got back its food. Serves the hyena right!"
On the screen, the hyena was then shown sauntering away. The voice-over in the programme then said, "The hyena lost her chance. She is on the lookout again. She needs to find food before the end of the day to feed her hungry cubs."
Zap! The entire perspective changed. The poor hyena was looking for food to feed her cubs. That's all. She was doing what she is best at doing - scavenging!
The screen then showed two little hyena cubs sniffing the ground, looking for scraps of food. A lump appeared in my throat.
The next scene was of the mother hyena loitering near a pride of lions. The lions were resting after a full meal, and the hyena was apparently trying to see if she could manage to get hold of something leftover from the meal. But unfortunately for her, she got too close to the lions for comfort. A male lion came across, pounced on her, and clamped his mouth on her throat. Her legs twitched for a while, and then she lay still.
The voice-over said, "The lions will not eat this hyena. She was just treated like a pest that had to be eliminated. With this, the lion took not one life, but three. The hyena's cubs cannot survive without her." And the camera showed the two forlorn little hyena cubs again.
I had to sit still for a moment - struck dumb. To the leopard, and then the lions, the hyena was an intruder, a pest. But the hyena, on her part, was doing what she had to do. She was looking for food for her cubs.
We are so quick to judge people, and to attribute negative characteristics to them. Who knows what instinct, what compulsion, or what pressing need they are acting under!
I think everybody deserves the benefit of doubt.
"Look!" I said, "Look how fast the leopard is running - there, it caught the deer..... Look at the leopard eating the deer..."
Just then a hyena entered the scene and tried to sneak away the leopard's kill.
"Look Puttachi!" I said, "That hyena is trying to steal the leopard's food. Should you take something that belongs to others? No! Bad, bad hyena!"
The hyena, however, did manage to snatch the kill away from the leopard, and went a few paces with it, before it was frightened by an elephant. The hyena dropped the kill and ran off, and the leopard retrieved it and dragged it up a tree to feast on it at leisure.
"Yay!" I said, "Look, the leopard got back its food. Serves the hyena right!"
On the screen, the hyena was then shown sauntering away. The voice-over in the programme then said, "The hyena lost her chance. She is on the lookout again. She needs to find food before the end of the day to feed her hungry cubs."
Zap! The entire perspective changed. The poor hyena was looking for food to feed her cubs. That's all. She was doing what she is best at doing - scavenging!
The screen then showed two little hyena cubs sniffing the ground, looking for scraps of food. A lump appeared in my throat.
The next scene was of the mother hyena loitering near a pride of lions. The lions were resting after a full meal, and the hyena was apparently trying to see if she could manage to get hold of something leftover from the meal. But unfortunately for her, she got too close to the lions for comfort. A male lion came across, pounced on her, and clamped his mouth on her throat. Her legs twitched for a while, and then she lay still.
The voice-over said, "The lions will not eat this hyena. She was just treated like a pest that had to be eliminated. With this, the lion took not one life, but three. The hyena's cubs cannot survive without her." And the camera showed the two forlorn little hyena cubs again.
I had to sit still for a moment - struck dumb. To the leopard, and then the lions, the hyena was an intruder, a pest. But the hyena, on her part, was doing what she had to do. She was looking for food for her cubs.
We are so quick to judge people, and to attribute negative characteristics to them. Who knows what instinct, what compulsion, or what pressing need they are acting under!
I think everybody deserves the benefit of doubt.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Movie mania
I have been watching quite a few movies these days on DVD. More than I have ever done all my life. I surprise myself, considering that I have a major interrupting factor in my life right now.
Anyway. I am hardly a fan of movies - especially Bollywood movies. but I must say that some movies of late have much to be said about them.
I don't know why i am trying to review movies, considering that i am a pathetic reviewer, but i am doing it anyway.
The following four are thanks to my dear friend SP, who gave me four cds on my birthday, and asked me to select two, but when she found I hadn't watched even one of them, she left them all with me.
Manorama - Six Feet Under - A taut thriller. Gripping. Not one unnecessary scene. Good acting. A must-watch.
The Blue Umbrella - Surreal, beautiful photography. Pankaj Kapur is brilliant. Though I wish his accent had been more understandable.
Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi - I am sure it is a good movie. I mean, I know it is a good movie - but it threw me too far away from my perfect, happy world of the present. Too disturbing. Hated the ending, but liked it too. Great performances by everybody.
Chak De India - Whoa! Loved it. Loved the girls. Liked the restrained Shah Rukh Khan (Last time I liked him was in Fauji). Cheered loudly at the eve-teasers-bashing-up scene, forgetting that Puttachi was sleeping a few feet away.
Thank you, SP! Do take back a couple of your CDs, I am done :)
The rest -
Om Shanti Om - The less said, the better. I am thinking hard of something that I can say I liked.... I pass.
Jab We Met - Oh, what a fun movie! Loved it. Loved the dialogues. See, this is the kind of movie you should make if you want to make a nice, light, mainstream movie. Tolerated even Kareena Kapoor, effusive though she was. And Shahid Kapur? WHY hadn't I noticed him before? How loveable he is! And what a natural, easy actor he is! Ok, Shruthi, stop gushing.
Cheeni Kum - A surprise. Didn't think I would like it, but I really did. Even the side actors were unforgettable. The romance between AB and Tabu was light, restrained, and the dialogues were fun! The little six year old girl in the movie was, as usual was smart beyond her age, but she was not the angelic goody-goody type, but on the contrary, delivered her dialogues in a near monotone with a deadpan expression. And so, I liked her too. The only grouse I have against the movie was that they made too much of the Miracle Iron Pillar of Qutb Minar. Too much melodrama there too. Could easily have been avoided.
Johnny Gaddaar - Another unexpected surprise. Very fast-moving, more twists than I could even guess. Worth a watch.
And the movie I have been most eagerly waiting to watch - Taare Zameen Par - hasn't yet had the honour of being watched by me. Soon, very soon.
Anyway. I am hardly a fan of movies - especially Bollywood movies. but I must say that some movies of late have much to be said about them.
I don't know why i am trying to review movies, considering that i am a pathetic reviewer, but i am doing it anyway.
The following four are thanks to my dear friend SP, who gave me four cds on my birthday, and asked me to select two, but when she found I hadn't watched even one of them, she left them all with me.
Manorama - Six Feet Under - A taut thriller. Gripping. Not one unnecessary scene. Good acting. A must-watch.
The Blue Umbrella - Surreal, beautiful photography. Pankaj Kapur is brilliant. Though I wish his accent had been more understandable.
Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi - I am sure it is a good movie. I mean, I know it is a good movie - but it threw me too far away from my perfect, happy world of the present. Too disturbing. Hated the ending, but liked it too. Great performances by everybody.
Chak De India - Whoa! Loved it. Loved the girls. Liked the restrained Shah Rukh Khan (Last time I liked him was in Fauji). Cheered loudly at the eve-teasers-bashing-up scene, forgetting that Puttachi was sleeping a few feet away.
Thank you, SP! Do take back a couple of your CDs, I am done :)
The rest -
Om Shanti Om - The less said, the better. I am thinking hard of something that I can say I liked.... I pass.
Jab We Met - Oh, what a fun movie! Loved it. Loved the dialogues. See, this is the kind of movie you should make if you want to make a nice, light, mainstream movie. Tolerated even Kareena Kapoor, effusive though she was. And Shahid Kapur? WHY hadn't I noticed him before? How loveable he is! And what a natural, easy actor he is! Ok, Shruthi, stop gushing.
Cheeni Kum - A surprise. Didn't think I would like it, but I really did. Even the side actors were unforgettable. The romance between AB and Tabu was light, restrained, and the dialogues were fun! The little six year old girl in the movie was, as usual was smart beyond her age, but she was not the angelic goody-goody type, but on the contrary, delivered her dialogues in a near monotone with a deadpan expression. And so, I liked her too. The only grouse I have against the movie was that they made too much of the Miracle Iron Pillar of Qutb Minar. Too much melodrama there too. Could easily have been avoided.
Johnny Gaddaar - Another unexpected surprise. Very fast-moving, more twists than I could even guess. Worth a watch.
And the movie I have been most eagerly waiting to watch - Taare Zameen Par - hasn't yet had the honour of being watched by me. Soon, very soon.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Lord of the Rings
It all began when a colleague of S~ left a book in S~'s car. I pounced on it - it was "The Hobbit" by JRR Tolkien. I turned a couple of pages idly, felt it was quite readable, and promptly read the whole book.
And then, I wanted what follows, which, obviously, is "The Lord of the Rings". The same colleague of S~ had the book, and S~ brought it home for me.
I looked at that big fat book with the tiny writing. I looked at Puttachi. I looked at the book again. I looked again at Puttachi. Then I looked at S~ and asked him to take it back and return the book.
But within half an hour, I was already fingering the book, and peeking in to see what is in it. And before I knew it, I started reading it, leaning against the chest of drawers, one eye on Puttachi playing nearby.
It was then that I knew that I couldn't stop. S~ said it's fine, take your time, there is no hurry to return it. Ok, I thought. It might take me a year, but I am at least going to give it a shot.
It's not even a month, and I am nearly half way through.
There is something about the book. The tiny, intricate details? The beautiful, yet simple language? The characters that immediately catch hold of you and don't let you go? The pure fantasy of it all? The non-stop adventures? The fact that the book nearly makes you believe that such a world with these characters existed?
I don't know what it is. But what I do know is that it has really gotten to me.
And now, I am itching to watch the movies too.
And then, I wanted what follows, which, obviously, is "The Lord of the Rings". The same colleague of S~ had the book, and S~ brought it home for me.
I looked at that big fat book with the tiny writing. I looked at Puttachi. I looked at the book again. I looked again at Puttachi. Then I looked at S~ and asked him to take it back and return the book.
But within half an hour, I was already fingering the book, and peeking in to see what is in it. And before I knew it, I started reading it, leaning against the chest of drawers, one eye on Puttachi playing nearby.
It was then that I knew that I couldn't stop. S~ said it's fine, take your time, there is no hurry to return it. Ok, I thought. It might take me a year, but I am at least going to give it a shot.
It's not even a month, and I am nearly half way through.
There is something about the book. The tiny, intricate details? The beautiful, yet simple language? The characters that immediately catch hold of you and don't let you go? The pure fantasy of it all? The non-stop adventures? The fact that the book nearly makes you believe that such a world with these characters existed?
I don't know what it is. But what I do know is that it has really gotten to me.
And now, I am itching to watch the movies too.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Nine Months
Nine months of Puttachi in my tummy - seemed like nine years.
Nine months of her out in the world - gone like nine seconds.
An (ahem) important side note: The kgs I gained in the nine months I was pregnant? I lost them all in these last nine months. Well, almost all of them. Just one more kg to go. No, I did nothing for this to happen, not even raise my little finger (Though I should have). It just happened.
What's new with Puttachi this month?
I'll start with saying that I had always wondered how parents can even think of sedating their kids for their own peace. I can now say that I understand why they do that. I am not saying I do it, nor am I advocating it - but I am just saying that now, I know why they do it.
Activities - Crawling all around the house. Pulling things, eating every little bit of rubbish in sight. Stands for 10-15 seconds on her own. A very wobbly 15 seconds, though, with the wobbliness diminishing with each day.
Bath time - Has finally discovered the delights of water. So bath time is now a breeze. Except if you dare to pour water over her head to shampoo her hair, which usually contains sticky remnants of her meals. She then squirms like a fish that has been taken out of water. You can't even sigh with relief after her hair is washed. Drying her hair is a nightmare.
Mamm-mamm - Ugi, or Agi? - "Mamm-mamm" is baby talk for food. And in Kannada, Ugi is Spit, and Agi is Chew. FOr a while, Puttachi did more of Ugi-ing than Agi-ing. She is in an on-off phase of rejecting solids. More here - Inputs welcome. The situation is slightly better now - touchwood.
The first morsel of every meal has to be spat out. Just has to be. No questions asked. It is only with the second morsel that her meal begins. And when she has had enough, she either turns on a sprinkler in her mouth, spray-painting our faces and clothes with food, or she spits the food out in such a projectile that she could be the President of the Paan Spitters' Association of India.
If we let her eat by herself, she dutifully picks up each bit of food with her fingers and feeds it to us.
Taachi - Baby talk for sleep. Her naps are very good now. But her night time sleep? A nightmare. Again, details here.
- When I am strapping/unstrapping her into her car seat/stroller/high chair, she looks at my fingers and the straps with such rapt concentration, that I am quite sure she is observing how it works. I am terrified she'll unstrap herself some day and hop out and hurt herself. I have now taken to hiding the strap mechanism behind my palm, and then working on it.
- She loves her Papa. She jumps up and down like a rubber ball the moment he gets back from work - and squeals and giggles with excitement. We go out for a lovely evening walk everyday after S~ gets back.
- She is a social animal. She talks to everybody on the road. She smiles, talks, offers her hand to strangers and bats her eyelashes at them. As long as they respond from afar, everything is fine. But the moment they try to carry her, or touch her, she screams like a banshee.
- How to recognize Puttachi when we are on our evening walk
- She is the kid with the big eyes and a mop of dark unruly hair, who is calling out to strangers, singing happily when she sees flowers, and laughing excitedly to herself at the sight of everything on the road.
- When in a stroller, she is the one sitting straight up, straining against the strap (the back rest in the stroller is absolutely of no use).
- When she is being carried in the sling, she is the one whose arms are waving like a windmill, and whose legs are pumping like the piston of a four stroke engine.
- With her are two adults. The female looks harassed, hair all awry. The male looks like he will burst with pride.
If you see such a group on your evening walk, please come by and say hello!
Nine months of her out in the world - gone like nine seconds.
An (ahem) important side note: The kgs I gained in the nine months I was pregnant? I lost them all in these last nine months. Well, almost all of them. Just one more kg to go. No, I did nothing for this to happen, not even raise my little finger (Though I should have). It just happened.
What's new with Puttachi this month?
I'll start with saying that I had always wondered how parents can even think of sedating their kids for their own peace. I can now say that I understand why they do that. I am not saying I do it, nor am I advocating it - but I am just saying that now, I know why they do it.
Activities - Crawling all around the house. Pulling things, eating every little bit of rubbish in sight. Stands for 10-15 seconds on her own. A very wobbly 15 seconds, though, with the wobbliness diminishing with each day.
Bath time - Has finally discovered the delights of water. So bath time is now a breeze. Except if you dare to pour water over her head to shampoo her hair, which usually contains sticky remnants of her meals. She then squirms like a fish that has been taken out of water. You can't even sigh with relief after her hair is washed. Drying her hair is a nightmare.
Mamm-mamm - Ugi, or Agi? - "Mamm-mamm" is baby talk for food. And in Kannada, Ugi is Spit, and Agi is Chew. FOr a while, Puttachi did more of Ugi-ing than Agi-ing. She is in an on-off phase of rejecting solids. More here - Inputs welcome. The situation is slightly better now - touchwood.
The first morsel of every meal has to be spat out. Just has to be. No questions asked. It is only with the second morsel that her meal begins. And when she has had enough, she either turns on a sprinkler in her mouth, spray-painting our faces and clothes with food, or she spits the food out in such a projectile that she could be the President of the Paan Spitters' Association of India.
If we let her eat by herself, she dutifully picks up each bit of food with her fingers and feeds it to us.
Taachi - Baby talk for sleep. Her naps are very good now. But her night time sleep? A nightmare. Again, details here.
- When I am strapping/unstrapping her into her car seat/stroller/high chair, she looks at my fingers and the straps with such rapt concentration, that I am quite sure she is observing how it works. I am terrified she'll unstrap herself some day and hop out and hurt herself. I have now taken to hiding the strap mechanism behind my palm, and then working on it.
- She loves her Papa. She jumps up and down like a rubber ball the moment he gets back from work - and squeals and giggles with excitement. We go out for a lovely evening walk everyday after S~ gets back.
- She is a social animal. She talks to everybody on the road. She smiles, talks, offers her hand to strangers and bats her eyelashes at them. As long as they respond from afar, everything is fine. But the moment they try to carry her, or touch her, she screams like a banshee.
- How to recognize Puttachi when we are on our evening walk
- She is the kid with the big eyes and a mop of dark unruly hair, who is calling out to strangers, singing happily when she sees flowers, and laughing excitedly to herself at the sight of everything on the road.
- When in a stroller, she is the one sitting straight up, straining against the strap (the back rest in the stroller is absolutely of no use).
- When she is being carried in the sling, she is the one whose arms are waving like a windmill, and whose legs are pumping like the piston of a four stroke engine.
- With her are two adults. The female looks harassed, hair all awry. The male looks like he will burst with pride.
If you see such a group on your evening walk, please come by and say hello!
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