The UK Files - Lambing

My aunt lives in what is called a village, and the surrounding areas are full of farms and open areas. One such neighbouring farm organized a Lambing weekend, where the farm was thrown open to the public for a fee. It was no less than a fair. There were stalls and organized parking, and volunteers took batches of visitors around the farm. We saw geese, ducks, horses, a Shetland pony and goats in enclosures just outside.

Inside, we were first taken to the hen enclosure. Six thousand hens live here, and in a good week, the yield of the farm is thirty-two thousand eggs. Now that is astonishing. They are free-range hens, and at night, they are housed in a huge hen building. We were shown how tonnes of feed are pumped into the enclosures. Whew, did that building stink!

The hens are brought in when they are a few weeks old - all of them the same age. They lay eggs until they are about 72 weeks old, after which, their egg-laying ability decreases, and they are sent away to enter the meat chain. The whole area is then cleaned and sanitized, and the next batch of hens are brought in.

"How do you know which eggs are chick-eggs?" asked a little girl.
"There are no chick-eggs here," said the volunteer. "We don't have any roosters - this is a ladies-only section - and you know that you need both a male and a female to make babies, don't you? You don't? Ask your mother after you get home!" And she winked at the rest of us and escaped quickly!

We saw pens of little pink pigs with curly tails - they were so cute. One had got some straw stuck to its snout - and it was doing a little dance to free itself - that was great fun. There were tiny little enclosures each containing one ewe and her lambs that had been born within that week. If ewe1 has given birth to three lambs and ewe2 to one, then the farmers cheat by putting one of ewe1's lambs with ewe2 - so that they all have a better chance of survival. These lambs were adorable, and some were available to hold and pet. Puttachi held a three-day-old lamb in her arms, and it was the sweetest sight. Soap and hand-sanitizers were installed everywhere, and we were told to use them liberally.


I don't know about you - but I felt it then and I feel it now - an intense urge to just run and jump into this pile of hay.

The high-point of our visit was watching a live birth. There was a huge enclosure in which all the sheep in labour were housed. These had tiny oval openings, through which we peeping-toms could crouch and look. I actually saw a lamb being born. The poor mother was baa-ing away pathetically, turning round and round in the straw. Just as she started straining, two (human) helpers came to assist her. Even as we looked, a baby lamb popped out of the mother, along with the messy afterbirth. The next moment, the helpers left, and the mother started licking the lamb for all she worth. In a little while, she started baa-ing again - it looked like there was another on its way. But we had to leave.





The just-born (Photo taken through a two-inch long oval opening)


We finished with a tractor-trailer ride around the farm, followed by two adorable lambs - white amidst green grass.

It was a fabulous experience.

Old dog, new tricks

I got my driver's license when I was 21. I drove very little, with my father sitting next to me. Since he took the car to work, and I wasn't really the jet-setting type, I didn't find any need for the car, and managed with autos and buses.

Then I went to study at Trichy, and then to work in Mumbai, where I didn't need to drive. After I got back to Bangalore, I was out of touch with driving, and anyway I took the office cab to work.

Even after I got married, I didn't ever feel the need to know driving. It is only now, when I have had to drop and pick up Puttachi from school, did I desperately feel the urge to drive, especially after dealing with faulty meters and rude drivers of autorickshaws. So I took a few driving lessons, and then drove around with S sitting next to me. After that, my father-in-law instructed me in the finer points of driving, and taught me driving in reverse and parking with great patience - and my confidence soared.

So today, I flew solo for the first time - I dropped and picked-up Puttachi from school myself - and I feel terrific.

Hand me a pair of ear-plugs.

One of the most difficult things that I have faced in bringing up Puttachi is that I've had to change a little of my basic personality to suit hers.

I am a relatively silent person, prefering to listen than to speak. But there is a limit even to how much I can listen to without going mad.

But Puttachi is the opposite of me. She loves to talk and she does talk all the time. When she is not talking, she expects me to talk. She hounds me to tell her story after story, and bugs me with continuous questions. So at any given time, there is always someone speaking in the house. And that is VERY tiring. I need silence and solitude, and sometimes, at the end of a tiring day, my ears feel like they'll develop holes, and my head feels like it'll burst. I have to literally beg Puttachi to stop talking and not ask me any questions. But of course, this request is followed by a "Why why why why why?"

Besides, Puttachi is always in high spirits and full of excitement. It is quite lovely to watch her, and my spirits are never too low for a long time because of this. But hey, sometimes I need to be normal. I need to not smile or laugh. I need to mope, sulk and frown to even out my facial muscles.

But I just do not have that chance. The poor thing comes to me with so much excitement and happiness that I cannot bear to pour cold water over that, so I end up joining in her excitement, and tiring myself out. And if I do give in to my primary instinct and sulk a little, she comes to me, full of concern, and asks, "Amma, are you angry, are you sick, are you tired, are you feeling bad, what happened Amma?" and she won't let go until she is convinced that I am not upset with her. And that involves smiling and assuring her that everything is fine.

I know that as she grows, the challenges will be greater. For instance, I might have to forgo my urge to loll around at home in my pyjamas on a lazy weekend, to cater to Puttachi's desire to go out and party (figuratively). There might be bigger clashes between our personalities, things I cannot even imagine - and I might have to change further in order not to limit Puttachi's growth.

I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing, exerting myself, extending myself - I am not sure if this will hurt me in the long run, but I see Puttachi happy and blossoming into a sweeter and more enthusiastic person each day, and it feels like it is worth it.

Hard to tell. Someday, I guess I'll know the answer. Meanwhile, if you have any words of wisdom, I'm all ears.

New Tricks up her sleeve

(not sure of the date of this one)

I go into the room to find that her brown dog has turned powdery and light brown. As I frown and ponder over it, she announces, "Dog asked me, "Puttachi, puttachi, please sprinkle some powder on me", and so I sprinkled powder on it."

When she knows something is going to get her in trouble, she employs this tactic. I have told her to eat her vegetables sitting in one place, but I come back to find it strewn all over the floor. "Oh, amma, the peas said to me, "Puttachi, please throw me on the ground", so I threw them on the ground.

New kind of questions I cannot answer.

She: Amma, say "plate".
Me: Plate.
She: Why did you say "plate"?
ME: Because you asked me to say "plate"
She: Why did I ask you to say "plate"?
Me: #$%$@

But I have found a way around it. I say, "tell me yourself", and I receive a very simple yourself. In the above case, she said, "because I like it." So simple, no?

Laughing at herself:

We see a picture of a snowman.

Me: Oh, Puttachi, do you know what you said for "snowman" when you were a kid? (she loves "when you were little" stories).
She: what?
Me: You used to say "Tone-man".
She: *Laughs her guts out - holds her stomach and rolls on the floor* Toneman! Toneman!
Me: *with a sudden doubt* Puttachi, say "Snowman" now?
She: Sone-man. *stops suddenly with shock. Then rolls on the floor again* I still can't say it!!


She: *waking up from a nap, still half-asleep* Brinjal... brinjal... where have you kept the brinjal?
Me: *Humouring her* Right, here, dear, you go back to sleep now.
She: *Sitting up, waking up* Ayyo, I said brinjal!!

Though S~ and I speak to each other a lot in her baby-language, we speak normally when she is around, one, to ensure that she knows the right way to say things, and two, to not make her conscious that for all her language abilities, her speech is not very clear yet. But once, I made a slip - I said a word like she would have said it. (I said, todine instead of kogile)
She immediately laughed and said, you said it like I do!

She sees a tube of ointment. She has forgotten the word "ointment"

She: Amma, what is that for?
ME: What, dear?
She: That oh-fen....oh-them....on-tem.... om-tem....
I listen patiently. Then she laughs loudly. I am not getting the word at all, amma! what is it called?
Me: Ointment
She: Ayyooooo ointment annakke yeneno andbitte! (I said all sorts of things instead of ointment!)

The UK Files - The Garden Centre

Since my aunt is so into gardening, it was inevitable that one of the first places she took us to was the neighbourhood Garden Centre. I'd never seen anything even remotely like this, and so my mouth fell open and my jaw hung down all through my first visit.

A garden centre differs from a nursery in that a nursery actually grows the plants and nurses them until they are fit to be sold, but a garden centre usually just sources the plants from such nurseries. A garden centre is much, much more than a nursery. It has everything you can imagine that has to do with a garden. And as many things that I couldn't even imagine.

It has plants, of course, and saplings, and trees, and seeds, and compost, and soil and pots and watering cans, fertilizers and pesticides and everything to do with plants. It then has gardening tools, rakes, and gardening gloves and lawnmowers and knee-pads and hats to keep away the sun (heh). Well, alright.

But then, it has garden furniture. And barbecue grills, and chairs and picnic mats and picnic baskets and picnic cutlery and stuff. And it has tea things, tea leaves, tea cups, doilies, tea-cosies, and varieties of biscuits to go with it.

It has landscaping instruments and garden ornaments and door-stops and stuffed toys and marble busts and things. And it has sheds and greenhouses and conservatories and frost-protection devices. It even has a whole section for wild bird feed. And it even has a pet shop and an aquarium in the same campus.

And they have very helpful people who give you valuable advice as well. And I'm just getting warmed up.

I think that if you want to study a people, you should visit their Garden Centre. That should give you, to use an English understatement, a fair idea of the people.

While my head was whirling with all this, Puttachi's jaw was dropping at something totally different. They have a few trolleys with toy cars attached to them. (Something like this) So the adult pushes the trolley, and the child sits in the car pretending to drive it.

For every visit after that, my job at the garden centre was to push around an empty trolley with Puttachi turning the steering wheel for all she was worth and honking away at passerbys. Old people stopped and smiled and said to me, "I hope your daughter has a license, dear," and all the while, Puttachi was deep in ecstasy.

We spent money taking her to what we thought were interesting places, the zoo, lambing at a farm, the merry-go-round at the town centre, but her favourite part of UK was the free car-trolley at the garden centre. Every morning, she would get up and say, "Shall we go to the garden centre today?"

Even yesterday, she asked me when we could go to England again, as she wanted to ride in the car trolley.

It breaks my heart that I couldn't take a picture of her in it.

Speaking of gardens, there is a very interesting concept known as NGS - Gardens Open for Charity. Every year, fair-sized private gardens open their gates to the public for a fee, the proceeds of which goes to charity. My aunt, Puttachi and I visited one such open garden. It was beautiful, attached to an imposing old house, with "grounds" all around, and fabulous views of the countryside. This one house brought to my mind all the settings of Jane Austen and such English novels. The batteries of my camera died here, and I didn't have spare ones on me, so no snaps :(

The plants were labelled well, and the landscaping was excellently done. The brochure had also promised us a walk in the woods next to the house - a Bluebell walk amid birch and ash trees, but though it wasn't exactly overflowing with bluebells, we could see some pretty ones here and there. The woods were lovely, dark and deep (Thank you, Frost), and it was fun walking in them. I almost expected Little Red Riding Hood to emerge from behind the nearest tree, because it was exactly as I had imagined Red Riding Hood's woods. (Or perhaps seen it illustrated somewhere). I also saw holly for the first time. I've seen pictures and have even drawn those distinctive holly leaves dozens of times, and finally, I saw it for real.

As usual, Puttachi was very cooperative, and sustaining her on Peppa Pig and Jammy Dodgers, we finished the walk and got back.

A wonderful concept, and perfect for garden-lovers.

Next: Lambing

The UK files - Familiarity

For me, one of the special things about visiting the UK, as opposed to any other country, is the immense familiarity with the place-names. I've come across these places in ever so many books, and it feels fabulous to see it in person.

On the South-Western rail from Reading to London, I saw Ascot station. How many books, how many movies talk about the races in Ascot! In the Wimbledon and Greenwich stations, I actually stood a while looking at the "Welcome to Wimbledon" and "Welcome to Greenwich" boards with a thrill creeping down my spine, thinking, "I'm actually here."

The London tube map looks like a concise Sherlock Holmes. I knew the names of most of the station thanks to Holmes' habits. Charing cross, Kensington, Brompton, Tottenham Court Road, Clapham Junction - and from innumerable movies, Covent garden, Leicester Square, Piccadilly - all of them are as familiar to me as if they are neighbouring streets.

Driving across the country, I saw exits to places like Manchester and Liverpool, and arrows to lesser known, but yet familiar towns and shires that are sprinkled all over English literature.

Last month, I was reading a Wodehouse when one of the characters walked from Piccadilly to Hyde Park Corner, and I could actually see him do that - I knew the route he took, the roads he crossed - it made the book even more interesting. More exciting was the mention of Twickenham, a station we passed on the way from Reading to London.

At every corner in London, there was something I recognized. "Scotland Yard", said a board in London, "Downing street", pointed another arrow - I know I'm rambling, but I don't know what that peculiar feeling is - that excitement when you see something that you've never seen before, but is so familiar to you! Has it happened to you?

It is priceless.

Next: Garden centre

The UK Files - Spring in England

My aunt saw my last post and complained about it - that she has such a lovely garden, and all I post are pictures of bare trees.

Anu Mausi, this one's for you!

The UK Files - The green and the weather

We landed in the UK just before spring was officially announced. It was still very green, but the trees were bare. Yet, it was a haunting kind of beauty, because I could see the shapes of the branches - some trees standing up reaching to the sky, some stretching their arms sideways, and many of them, the most beautiful ones, had branches drooping down, only to slightly perk up at the ends.

There wasn't much colour, except for daffodils - and these stood proud and yellow and beautiful. But they did indeed haste away very soon, and in fact, dry daffodils are a sore sight.

As our stay progressed, the chill decreased, and fuzz started appearing on the trees. This was a unique sight in my eyes, because the trees weren't really bare any longer - it was like you weren't wearing spectacles - the branches were hazy.

We didn't go out much for a week, thanks to the rain and cold and other activities at home, and on the next drive to Sainsbury's, everything was astonishingly different. Green of all shades had burst forth and the landscape was choking with green. I couldn't even recognize the roads as the same we'd driven through before. Farms that I could see through hedges were now hidden, the hedges having sprouted new leaves.

And in a few weeks, the colours came. Bold, exquisite Magnolias, the prettiest cherry blossoms of a thousand colours, and much later, the loveliest laburnum and the strangely beautiful wisteria.
Names I'd only read came alive before my eyes.

The beauty of that country is remarkable. I think it makes more of an effect because there is so much of it in such little space. And to someone who likes green, it is paradise.

Representative photos of a tree in my aunt's backyard:

End of March


Mid April


End of May

But the associated problems with cold and wetness - I cannot get over how long it takes to get ready to step outside. And I'd thought that one coat would be enough - I realize now that you need coats of different textures and thicknesses for every consecutive day! And layering - such a pain, but the most sensible thing to do.

Sometimes it looks sunny, and out you go, and the moment the sun pops behind a cloud, you're all a-shiver, sure you'll freeze. The sun comes out in a minute, and you're fine again. Really, what does that country expect one to do?

I realized I was prone to chilblains. Waking up at midnight with my toes itching so much that I felt like biting them out.

And how many plans have been ruined by the weather? In India, we say, okay let's go to say, Nandi Hills this Saturday. And we go. In England, you think about having a picnic in either Reading or Maidenhead. open the weather website, check the weather. Saturday looks wet in Reading, wetter in Maidenhead. How about Sunday? Oh no it is very wet in Maidenhead but Reading looks fine. But very very cold. And windy. Hmmm. Let's postpone to next weekend.
I found it very funny initially how every plan first started with a visit to the weather website. At the end of my visit, I was at it too.

Nothing like travel to put things in perspective. The day I got back to Bangalore, I felt a warm breeze on my face and felt so wonderful. I went out, taking care to wear the lightest clothes, and felt the sun on my skin and the lightness of being that comes from wearing no extra layers of clothes! But I went out and got depressed about the smoke and the dust and the lack of greenery, things I'd not thought about at all before.

Next: Familiarity

Three good books

I've read more than a dozen books these two months. They've all been great, but there are three I just had to mention.

Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh. One of the most engrossing books I've read. The characters just grab you by the collar and don't let go of you. Excellent writing, fabulous details - enough of them without it getting boring, and none of that flowery writing that gets in the way of a story. It transported me back two centuries to the time of the opium trade, and I was there, right there, with the characters.

I've spoken before of not liking it when I get to the midpoint of a good book, because it means it's getting over. This book was such that I actually put it down at midpoint, and picked up another book (the next on this list). But that book was so good that I finished it in no time, and I came back to Sea of Poppies. Sometime around now, I'd realized that this was the first part of a trilogy, with the other two yet to be published. So when I drew towards the end of the book, I decided to stop reading, and continue after the second part came out. But before I knew it, the pages turned on their own, and I flew to what I thought was the last chapter, only to read the title - "Acknowledgements". The book was over. I could have screamed. I could have torn my hair out. I could have rent the book into a thousand pieces. I was that mad. But all I did was put it away sorrowfully and look up Amitav Ghosh's email id to mail him and tell him, "Get on with the next book!"

The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. I picked up this book thinking that it will be slow reading, so that I could make Sea of Poppies last longer. But it was better than any thriller! I literally read it open-mouthed. The ideas and the writing are so clear, consice, incisive and they make so much sense, that I'm floored. Now I can't wait to get at his other books.

Three Men in a Boat (To Say nothing of the dog) by Jerome K Jerome - Now, this is one funny book. Barring one racist remark, and a few sentences that treat women with mild condescension, this book could have been written now. The humour is so relevant even 120 years after the book was published. That's probably because the author laughs mostly at human nature, and that, perhaps will never change! The events are most commonplace, but the way he writes about it is very good. This is one of the very few books I've read where I've actually caught myself laughing out loud, and in one case clutching my stomach while I laughed. Just this morning I was walking on the road when I remembered something from the book and grinned all by myself.

What made it nicer was that I now knew most of the places he talks about in the book, as he and his friends boat up to Oxford from London - all those places I've seen, including Reading, which he unkindly calls, among a multitude of other things, a dismal, dirty place. (It is not ;))

The UK files

Ok, I've put it off for too long, but finally I've got the urge to write all about our UK visit. It was a wonderful visit, something I'd been looking forward to for a long, long time. Of course, writing about it is going to be a long-drawn affair, interspersed with regular topics.

Puttachi and I landed on March 25th, and S~ joined us on April 30th. All of us returned to Bangalore on May 20th.

We stayed with my aunt near Reading. She is great company, and very inspiring. We had hours and hours of lovely long chats, she treated us to the most lipsmacking dishes (the visit was a foodlover's dream), and we watched hours of murder mysteries on television, and the entire series of Fawlty Towers. My cousin V and Puttachi had some good times together, though he is a very busy guy! My uncle and Puttachi got on famously, she telling him stories all the time. Many times, when we were watching/doing something particularly engrossing, and Puttachi was disturbing us, my uncle would slowly lure her away and listen to her non-stop-nonsense until she didn't care if we existed or not.

Their house has a beautiful garden, and we spent hours in it. Mostly watching my aunt garden, but helping out a bit too. There is something to be said for walking barefoot on grass. It is so rare for us to have that pleasure. Lawns in India have "Keep off the grass" boards - but naturally. How difficult it is to maintain a lawn here! But in England, lawns maintain themselves - and so we had some beautiful moments sitting on the grass (me) and rolling about (Puttachi).

My aunt took us to a number of places - very untouristy things, and made it a point to show me interesting things and explain them to me - things which gave me an idea of life in the UK.

Next: The green and the weather.

School update (after 2 months)

Nearly two months after Puttachi started school, she is well-settled. Apparently, she cried from time to time during the first month, but not any more. She likes going to school, fussing only on rainy mornings when even I feel like chucking everything and curling up to go back to sleep.

When she gets back, she is bursting to tell me what she did, what they learnt, what so-and-so said, and what X did to Y, and of course, what snacks they were given, and how many helpings she took. (Yes, she takes multiple helpings!)

She is full of news about her classmates, telling me in detail who sits where, and who wears her hair in ponytails and who doesn't. I had no idea kids chat - after all, what can a bunch of three-year-olds talk about? But apparently, they do, because she tells me what each of her friends said to her.

Since I speak to her only in Kannada at home, there was a time when I worried slightly that she would have a problem at school. I feel so silly now. Not even two months have passed and she has picked up so much English that I would've found it impossible to believe it had I not seen it myself.

Thanks to school, she is obsessed with colouring. She doesn't want to eat, sleep, or go to the toilet or do anything else, but colour. A friendly autorickshaw guy said to her yesterday, "Child, study well, okay?" She got down and told me, "Amma, I will study well, but I will also draw and colour, okay?"

Looks like she's having a wonderful time at school, and I only hope this lasts for the entire duration of her education!

Sins against Gender stereotypes

I know that everybody has done this tag and passed on to other things, but since RajK and Dhanya tagged me, here goes:

My sins against Gender stereotypes.:

Disclaimer: I think the lines have been blurred now, and many things that were considered masculine when I was a child aren't so any longer, and vice versa. Of course, there are thousands of other things that weren't considered feminine even about 50 years ago, which we don't think twice about doing now. So I'm going to let all that go, and make my list - of what I remember. (I'm suffering from severe memory loss these days)

1) I hate shopping. Enough said.
2) I dislike going to the parlour. But I go anyway.
3) I don't like jewellery on myself, or dressing up or making myself up. I feel like I've entered someone else's body.
4) I studied MTech in Energy Engg, which was apparently such a male field that Energy companies that came on campus for recruitment wouldn't even consider female applicants.
5) That didn't stop me from travelling alone with my male classmates to industries in different, isolated towns.
6)... and wear helmets and climb ladders to take energy efficiency measurements from burning boilers.
7) I don't set great store on celebrating my birthdays and anniversaries. S~ and I completed 5 years of marriage this week, and I didn't even remember that it was our anniversary. Ordinarily, once you reach the month of the anniversary, you are aware that a special day is coming up, even if you forget it on that very day. I didn't even remember that.
8) I once shocked my Township by insisting on shaking hands with the chief guest who was distributing prizes. He was shaking hands with all the men, but not with the women. Some silly Victorian rule, I tell you. I was a teenager, who liked handshakes, and so I shook his hand. Tongues wagged.
9) I prefer to listen in and participate in the conversations of men in a mixed gathering. I gravitate towards the men sometimes, but unfortunately, there are higher instances of when I stay with the women out of a sense of propriety. Indeed, there was a time when I preferred the company of men to women.
10) I've never shirked from physical labour, often being the one to move benches and lift heavy things while organizing things in school/college.
11) I don't like speaking on the phone for longer than 5 min. That is my limit.

One point five months of school

After one and a half months of school:

1) Puttachi goes willingly, and happily to school. She goes on about her friends in class and tells me nearly every detail about what they did in school. Many times I have to dig it out of her with questions, but usually, she offers all the information herself.

2) I can't believe I worried for a while about her not knowing English, since I speak to her entirely in Kannada. 1.5 months and she has picked up quite a bit of English, and tries very hard to carry on a conversation in English, consisting mainly of nouns, "ing" verbs and lots of actions.

Me: Puttachi, how did you hurt your knee?
She: School... running (runs around to show me how).... fall down (makes a shocked face and demonstrates)..... hurt (makes a sad face)... crying (demonstrates graphically, with sound effects).
Me: Aww, then?
She: Aunty.... not teacher, aunty (mimics the ayah (my guess)) come, don't cry, medicine.... then, abbu(hurt) go away!

This from someone who spoke next to no English on May 31st.

3) Went for the first parent-teacher meeting, where her teacher told me that she's settled in very well, except that in the beginning, she tended to cry for half a minute before every new activity! The teacher also said that she relishes her food (the school provides snacks - yummy, filling stuff), and always asks for second, and sometimes third helpings.

4) They've taught the kids to draw standing lines and sleeping lines. Armed with that, and also with previous knowledge of the English alphabet, Puttachi came to me demanding to be taught to write her own name. I indulged her, assuming that she couldn't possibly do it, but to my shock, she actually wrote down all the five letters of her (real) name! One of the letters bothered her, but with an easy trick I taught her, she wrote down that too. My daughter is literate ;)

Another little ray of sunshine

One of my stories is in the longlist of the Unisun short story competition.

I don't have too high expectations of it getting to the next level, considering the competition out there, but I'm pleased nevertheless.

To add to it, I got a mail from them offering me the chance to get the story published in their anthology. Now, that's interesting.

Guilty mommy

I'm one of the three winners in the Mommy guilt contest!

Towards a guilt-free mommyhood.

Like a gadzillion other things I didn't know before I had my Puttachi, I had no idea that being a mother involved lugging around a huge sack of guilt. A totally unnecessary sack, I should add, which, even if you try to avoid, creeps stealthily up behind you and attaches itself to you.

Oh well, I've thrown a few things out of the sack from time to time, and a few things get added to them along the way - let me bring it all out into the open.

Things I've felt guilty about, but not any more:

- Eating before I feed Puttachi - There have been times when we've come back home late for lunch, and both Puttachi and I have been starving. I'd hasten to feed Puttachi first, fighting the rats in my stomach, and lose my patience and sanity on the way. S~ pointed out to me that two minutes of extra starvation won't hurt Puttachi, two minutes being the time I need to chomp on a banana or down a glass of milk - enough to give me energy to feed Puttachi with calm and patience. That was one of the best pieces of advice anybody has given me. I now eat guiltlessly even when Puttachi is hungry, because I know that I can be that much better a mother when not hungry.

- I'd feel guilty about wanting to read or go for a walk, or wish for some time of my own when Puttachi was demanding my attention. I'd attend to her, while every fibre of my being wanted to do otherwise. But now I realize that if I'm happy and content, I can give her the quality time she wants. So I plonk her down with a favourite toy, tell her not to disturb me, and lose myself in a book for some time - even five minutes - just five minutes can do the trick.

Actually, I tell this to all those working moms who feel guilty - think about it, which is better for your child? A happy mom they see only in the evenings, or a grouchy, grumpy, dissatisfied mom that they have to put up with for 24 hours? Do whatever makes the best person out of you - all for the happiness of the child.

- Making Puttachi miss naptimes or mealtimes, or feeding her with less than a balanced meal, because I need to do something else. One day without proteins will not malnourish her. One missed nap will just make her cranky. But it is worth it if I can feed her with something convenient, make her miss a nap and drag her along with me to go out, visit people or places and have fun. This attitude stood us in good stead when we had to do all the travelling around UK.

Guilt I've been working on removing:

- Not being the perfect mom - I have had to step out of the shadow of my perfect mom - who, in spite of soul-deadening problems, was always caring, patient and loving with us - who gave up her other interests for us, who tried to shape us into confident, independent women. I'm trying to tell myself that it is okay not to be like her, and that I can be a good mom in my own way.

- Pushing away the guilt I feel when I scold Puttachi or give her a little whack on her little bottom. Her crumpled-up face immediately tugs at my heartstrings and makes me feel miserable, but I have to force myself to remember that this is for the best - for making her a decent, thoughtful part of society.

- Not feeling guilty when I lose my patience with her. I am human, after all, in spite of the endless spring of patience I've discovered after I've become a mother.

But there are a few things in which I'm still neck-deep in guilt:

- The state of my house. It is just a functional home, with all necessary things. I keep the kitchen clean and hygeinic, but many other surfaces around the house that are reeling under dust cannot say the same thing. Stuff needing to be picked up, cupboards wanting cleaning, shelves needing organization - my house is all that and more. I've always dreamt of a pretty and clean house - but I'm only just able to manage running a sane house.

It is not like I don't have the time. But in that time, I'd rather read or write or spend time with Puttachi. These "non-essential" things come last in my priority list, and they just remain there. Last. Undone. I feel terribly guilty about this, especially because S~ likes a spic and span house, and so comes back home after a long day at work and tries putting it all in order.

- I feel guilty about putting Puttachi first all the time. I know it is natural, and I know that nobody carries any grudge against me for that. But yet, I feel guilty. That she takes priority over everybody else. That her well-being is more important to me than that of anybody else. I feel rather like a traitor to my other loved ones for feeling this way.

Things I've never been guilty about:

- Being a SAHM. I've never felt bad that I've been wasting my BE and MTech degrees, that my brains are rusting. It is probably because I've never been too happy being a working woman, and I enjoy this life. I have a thousand interests, more than I have time for, and my day is always full, without a dull moment. I do things I love and keep my brain in working order. And if anyone asks me, "Are you just a housewife/mom?", I tell him/her that I am much more than that - I am a -
Cook
Dietitian
Nutritionist
Tailor
Teacher
Technician
Chauffeur
Psychologist
Doctor
Nurse
Caretaker
Housekeeper
Event manager
Handyman
Cleaner
Artist
Musician
Hairstylist
Beautician
Counsellor
Librarian
Entertainer
..... and so there. And if any of you is suffering from SAHM guilt, hit yourself on the head with this list.

So, Fight that Mommy Guilt!

[Written for this. ]

Take my breath away

I've been postponing writing about my vacation in the UK, and was just running out of excuses, when Manish's mom, who is also back from a vacation in England, (and who gave me wonderful tips on travelling with a toddler - you can write to me for them), asked me, "What is the one place that took your breath away?" And I thought, this is the right time to start writing about my experiences.

There were many places that made me catch my breath, but Scotland is the one place that is seared in my memory. It keeps coming back to me, in my dreams, in visions, catching me by surprise when I'm doing the most mundane things.

But it isn't fair on all my other experiences to name just Scotland. So here are a few instances that took my breath away.

1) Spring had just arrived in England. Ever since I landed, I'd been seeing bare trees, and spring was an entirely new experience. The green was greener, there was fuzz on the trees and pretty flowers popped out from behind every green hedge. We were driving to a neighbouring town. I was entranced by the countryside and was looking out of the window. Suddenly, the road rose, reached a summit, and then dipped. At that vantage point, the countryside spread out in front of me. A clean green. Gently rolling hills. Farms on either side of the road. Little lambs gambolling about. Neat fences and hedges. Trees with fresh new leaves. Patches of flowers here and there. A blue, blue sky. The sensation of pleasure was very physical. It literally took my breath away.

2) Shortly after that, my aunt and I were driving, when from nowhere, a tree bursting with blooming magnolias sprung into view. It was so sudden, so magnificent that it made me feel glad to be alive just to see that wonderful sight.

3) With spring came these sudden, striking patches of yellow in the fields, amid the green. The first time I saw this yellow was at a distance. It looked like a giant's picnic mat, or as if someone had spilled a huge bucket of bright yellow paint in the middle of the green fields. It was absolutely lovely. The first time, it made me catch my breath. I never tired of the sight. I later found that they were rapeseed fields.

Rapeseed fields, near Stonehenge



4) While travelling in London, we got down at Westminster underground station, climbed up, and came out onto the road. "Ok, where are we?" I said, turning left and right to get my bearings, and then casually looked upwards. We were standing right below Big Ben. It is one thing looking at photos of something all your life, and another thing seeing it up close, that too when you don't expect it. A lovely feeling. Definitely a breath-taking-away moment.

My first view of Big Ben, London

5) We were driving upwards towards the Scottish Highlands from Glasgow, along the endless banks of Loch Lomond. It is not that beautiful compared to the other lakes we saw, but something about it, or probably the drive past it, moved me to tears. Sobs, actually.

6) Glencoe - I can tell you about it, I can show you pictures, but nothing can convey the feeling of awe you experience when you are there - like the mountains have a life of their own and closing in on you. Prehistoric, almost. This did not exactly make me catch my breath, but it made me forget to breathe.


Glencoe, Scotland



7) Loch Lochy - My favourite Loch amongst all those we saw. Made me catch my breath each time we passed it.

Loch Lochy, Scotland

Rolling heads

So I told Puttachi the story of how Ganesha got his elephant head with the help of an Amar Chitra Katha. As always, she listened intently.

Me: .... and so... Parvati's young son proved so strong for Shiva's forces, that Shiva, seeking to put an end to him, cut off the boy's head with his trident.

Puttachi: (Face crumpling up...)

Me: Wait, wait, listen to what I have to say.

She: Othay

Me: Parvati was angry, and to appease her, Shiva ordered his forces to go north into the forest, and bring him the head of the first animal they found. They found an elephant, cut off its head, and brought it to Shiva, who attached it to the young boy's body. And then.....?

She: (Her face lights up with extreme delight) And Ganesha got an elephant head! Yay yay!! Othay, so that's how Ganesha got that kind of a head! (Then she loses herself in thought)

Me: (Leaving her alone to digest the information)

She: Amma....

Me: Yes?

She: And whose head did they put on the elephant's body?

Me: Gulp.

First day at school

Today was Puttachi's first day at school. She was prepared to go in without me, and was very excited to wear her new uniform and shoes, and carry her new bag. She even woke up early in the morning, raring to go to school.

She looked heart-breakingly adorable - big, dark eyes full of excitement, short, unruly hair pinned down on either side by inadequate hairclips, wearing a uniform too loose for her in spite of attempts at alteration, unfamiliar shoes, and a no-nonsense brown bag - and she couldn't keep still as usual.

When we reached school, the watchman and an ayah took her from me, smiled at her, patted her head and cheeks, and led her away lovingly. She did not even look back at me.

I stood on my toes and watched her little figure until I could see her no longer. And then I stood right there and wept shamelessly!

She came out quite composed too, but the moment she spoke, I knew from her slightly heavy voice that she'd been crying. But the first thing she said to me was, "Amma, they gave me green milk! And something yellow to eat. It was sweet. I finished it all!"

Slowly, out it came without any prodding. "I cried just a little bit, Amma. I knew you would come and pick me up, but yet I wanted you, and so I cried. "

A new beginning, new feelings, new emotions. Decisions taken in the belief that it is for the best. A little girl going out into the world.

Silence.

My baby's baby.

I am a Grandmother.

No, really. Puttachi has a baby. A "kaaNisade iro" (that, which you cannot see) baby. This baby eats kaaNisade iro food, drinks kaaNisade iro milk, and bathes with kaaNisade iro water. And this baby, which is called Little Puttachi, goes with Amma Puttachi everywhere.

Last night, after Amma Puttachi had gone to bed, Little Puttachi felt thirsty.
Amma Puttachi: Amma, please turn on the light. Little Puttachi wants water.
Me: Give her water without turning on the light. Puttachi, did you want water?
Amma Puttachi: No Amma, I don't want water, my baby wants water. Please turn on the light so that she can see. What if she thinks I am giving her milk?
Me: I'm sure she can make out the difference in taste.
Amma Puttachi: (Making "glug glug" noises.) She could make out the taste, Amma.
Me: Good. Go to sleep now.

Little Puttachi came with us to England. We had bought a stroller for Puttachi to use there, and so, immediately, Amma Puttachi obtained a kaaNisade iro stroller for Little Puttachi.

When travelling by London Underground, S~ carried the stroller on the escalators while I carried Puttachi. The commuter movement was very fast as can be expected, and we had to be quick on our feet, so as not to obstruct anybody in a hurry. Just as I stepped on an escalator, I would lift Puttachi and place her on it simultaneously. But, I had forgotten that my daughter had her baby to attend to. The moment I bent down to lift her, Amma Puttachi bent down to lift her kaaNisade iro baby and made little endearing noises, and adjusted the baby's clothes, while I teetered on the edge of the escalator trying to grasp my daughter, holding up half a dozen irate commuters behind us! Finally I suggested to Amma Puttachi to carry her baby in her pocket like a kangaroo, and she thankfully complied.

Little Puttachi felt scared when the car went too fast on the motorway, but Amma Puttachi was very brave. Little Puttachi felt sleepy and hungry and cried all the time, but Amma Puttachi was usually cooperative.

Little Puttachi will probably go to school with Amma Puttachi. I'm hoping kaaNisade iro baby will give Puttachi company for the first few days until she gets some kaaNiso (visible) friends.