The many rewards of Motherhood

Being a mother is not easy. It is a sacrifice. It is a profession in which a woman never feels that she gets rewarded enough.  My mother used to say "A girl's life changes as soon as she gets married, and it changes irreversibly from the moment she holds her first child in her arms." 

I had a big row today with my almost 5 year old daughter. The reason being the usual 'you watched TV more than you should without doing homework' grounds.  The homework is not a big load, but 3-5 pages of math and reading which she usually finishes in about half an hour.
I had to do the weekend job support for a release and was neck deep with work. So she realized that the big monster can't get into the battle  field  and she don't have a strong opponent. And she can get away with Dad as he was very religiously studying the color variations in the high definition television transmission ;-)
So when I tried to make her do the home work after my work, she replayed the cassette of 'Tired, hungry and sleepy' . She neither eat the food I prepared nor was  going to sleep. I lost all my patience.  Pots flew in the kitchen  and pans leaped their way to the sink. My daughter crept under the blanket in her bed. My husband slowly retreated to fetch  cotton for his ears  from the medicine cabinet and started to read Business Week, oblivious to the bangs. My temper immediately subsided once I  'disassembled' the table fan in the bedroom  to 3 pieces!

I came back to Samyu's room, hugged her and cuddled  with her. I told her I am not upset because she didn't do her homework, but because she was not behaving. I read her a bedtime story, sung a lullaby and made her come back to her mischievous mood before sending her to sleep. Let tomorrow be a different one!

I do not remember my mother gets  seriously angry with me or punishing me when I was a child. She usually give the silent treatment . My dad had  spanked me , I sometimes take pride in that, that it helped me to learn some lessons in life. Poor Mom, we kids denounced even her silent treatment. The many rewards of Motherhood ! Me too have enrolled for it few years back and started to get the rewards as well. I am sorry Mom if I ever have hurt you. 

Mom stayed with me for 6 months in US , that's the longest she stayed exclusively  with me after my daughter was born. During one of those days , and frequently after that she mentions that she is so surprised to see that I have got a great amount of patience in my parenting.  Yes , I acquired quite a lot of it compared to what I had  10 years before, but I haven't conquered it yet. (Patience is a packaged deal that you have to buy with Motherhood. You can choose to not get the 'complimentary product' , but in order to get the full advantage of the main product you must acquire this too. )
 One should realize how hard I have been trying to earn the 'Patient Mom' title my mom  rewarded me, considering I belong to the fierce Aeries zodiac band. So yes, I get this occasional outburst of impatience. Kids- these little devils are quite capable of tipping off the scale of patience. 

This also reminded me of another funny(?) incident.

My daughter need me for every beck and call, she wants me to read her a bed time story and tuck her in  bed every night, she wants me to play with her in her imaginative world,  what not , she wants me for everything.But after all is said and done she still love Dad "a little bit more" . Depressing! I am shamelessly jealous of my husband in that regard. 

The day goes like this.. Me and my daughter were having a great time. We played, we cuddled, I pampered her a lot.. I knew  its never a good idea to ask  kids whom they love most? Dad or Mom?  But I couldn't help it. Curiosity killed the cat.

Me : Samyu, do you like Mom or Dad? (She is a smart kid and tried to be very diplomatic)
Samyu: Both mom and dad.
Me: Really? tell me the truth.( I pleaded)
Samyu: Mom . 
(oh my child.. happy tears started to  roll down my eyes , then she added...)
"Mom, I love you the most in this world, but I love dad a little bit more". 

She said it with such innocence , and I  know it was true to its core. I  didn't know whether to cry or not. But I got really upset(unnecessarily) . For few days I was making a fuss over it. The 'oh she is only a 4 year old kid..' justification didn't seem to pacify me. I was just being so selfish and could think only about  all those stuff  I have been doing for her. My thoughts , as usual , started to play their tricks on me . They shouted  "You are alone" , 'Nobody needs you" , "You are abandoned once again , just like in the past" - It shook the very roots of my emotional insecurity. 

Later I made peace with myself agreeing to the fact that girls are genetically engineered to be  daddy's princesses. And my eyes still lit up when she brings me a coloring page she did in daycare and give that as a present to me saying "I made this for you, Amma ". Her Love - it is the ultimate reward I am getting.  Nowadays when I ask the same question she will say 'I love my family the best" . However I try to  push she won't bulge in. Being a very observant kid,  she realized the impending calamities her words can bring in;-)
In her own words "Home is the best place on this whole wide world. That's why people always come back to home from stores!"

-R.

The wooden window down the memory lane..

When you were a kid ,you always wanted to grow up.As a grown up  you always long to get back to your childhood.

I have lots of memories from childhood…of joy,  laughter, sorrow, fear & abandonment.But I often wonder what was the  first ever  thing that I can remember from my childhood..I remember riding in front of my dad’s Yesdee bike. I was sitting in the front, so I must be really really small then and may be that was the first ever thing I remember.I remember going to watch ‘My dear kuttichatan 3D’ movie-I know I was 3 then because the movie got released in 1984.The next thing that’s coming to my mind is going to nursery school (preKG)with my cousin Vasu (we are of same age and were born just 15 days apart ) and of those school  days I remember a lot!!

So honouring Teacher's day , today  I chose to pen down few anecdotes from my life as a student and about my  teachers .

Thinking about my nursery school-Amala ‘Baalaaraamam’ (meaning Kids’ Garden) ,the first picture that comes to my mind  is of my Nursery school teacher. I think she was the head teacher and a nun. She was so kind and loving. After spending an year in Amala, we moved to the nearby LP school. Kids  had to walk past the nursery school to get to the LP school. And me and Vasu walked more or less half a kilometer from home to reach the school. And I remember a day when we walked past the nursery school, our teacher was looking out through the  wooden window of her classroom and waving at the kids passing by. For many days she used to stand by the window and look at the kids going and coming back from the school . That one  day she waved at us too. Though I have only a vague memory of her face, that frame is very clear in my mind till today. I saw love and compassion in her eyes. I saw the kindness in her gentle smile .I saw that she was proud of her students who moved out from the nursery school and made it to the LP school. I may not recognize her if I meet her today, but she has a very special place in my heart as the first teacher I remember.She taught me to open the wooden windows of my heart and  look beyond  and see the world with compassion ,kindness and love..

On the 2nd year of my LP school, I was moved to a different city away from my hometown, parents & cousins  to live with my aunt . And my schooling continued there for 9 long years . Though I was very sad about the separation, I had a blast during those school years and I enjoyed every bit of it. I think about the many teachers there , that I had the privilege to know & learn under them .
I always think about few of them not only in the teacher’s day but also in many occasions in my life.My scouts and guides teacher- she gave me the first responsibility of a position  as a patrol leader & company leader of my school troop and taught me valuable lessons. My favorite  Malayalam master in high school- he used to lend library books to few of his dear students on the last day of school year and let us keep the books for the entire summer vacation! I would have never read ‘The count of Monte Cristo’ – unabridged, without his  thoughtfulness  and I believe that was the  first spark  which ignited my literacy interest . There are many more faces  for which I can’t get enough space to write. It feels good when I think about all the teachers who taught me at school . It feels even better when I hear that those  teachers  still remember me even after 15 years and inquire about me whenever they happen to meet my aunt.

Going to college was real liberation. Bunking the classes ,strolling through the vast college premises, hiding from principal, great friends ..And to me , studying in that women only college was the most hilarious & golden days of my entire  life. I  now feel sorry for showing disrespect to those teachers by not attending the classes though they were least cared whether all students attend the classes or not. Nevertheless there were a few who really cared about the students and wouldn’t let us cut classes. Well ,the confidence to bunk classes came from the realization that  the missed lessons  can be learned from  the tuition teachers. We had to trade off all the freedom experienced in college at the tuition classes. But where I am now is also  due to those great minds who coached me to sharpen my potential.

Engineering College was , well, no offence to anybody - more or less like a juvenile home! Where the management thought the universe will end  if boys and girls talk to each other or  come closer  within the  5 feet perimeter . They were so conservative that there was an invisible rope that separated girls and boys under their watchful eyes. Friendship raised questioning glances and Love was a taboo! But it now feels all funny because in spite of all these, Friendships were bloomed  or withered with time , Love blossomed or left  few hearts broken and so life went on..
(I got lucky to get a true  friend who stood by me on happy times and wiped my tears on sorrow, my room mate,soul mate & I owe it to  her).
Though many of the teachers were just an year or two senior than us , many were really friendly and made life at the college a little easier. However I respect all my teachers who criticized me ,tried to correct my mistakes , helped me to learn, nurture my talents , shared their  wisdom & knowledge. I can’t  forget any of them .

“The dream begins with a teacher who believes in you, who tugs and pushes and leads you to the next plateau, sometimes poking you with a sharp stick called "truth”.

-R. ( Originally written on Wednesday, September 5, 2012 at 7:18pm )

The Portico

Today is Vijaya Dasami. I am being nostalgic again! In fact all the festival seasons makes me nostalgic. Childhood beckons and memories comes rushing in to the mind.

Today, on the day of Vijayadashami, I did my Vidyarambham sitting in front of the make shift Pooja stand in my 2 bedroom apartment here in US. My Pooja stand is actually the top shelf of a drawer chest standing unceremoniously in the corner of the kid’s bedroom. It’s a very modest arrangement. The diety photos, the Ganesha idol, lamps, incense stick holder all kept in the top shelf-looks like as if they are fighting for their place in that small space. Samyuktha’s toys and books mightily occupied all the bottom shelves of the drawer. (I am making a mental note here: whenever I am moving to my own house, I will definitely have a proper place for the diety -May God bless me for that). My parents are here with me now and my dad did some decorations to the Pooja stand to make it look like a real pooja stand. Since its October , the Xmas decorations – the lights, golden ornaments etc are already available in Walmart and now you know the source of the decoration Anyways it came out well and all the deity is adorned with real flowers-.some marigolds and roses plucked from my small patio garden. Mom arranged plates with prasadam – beaten rice, banana, Jaggery, puffed rice, raisins .A plate full of raw rice and a gold ring is kept on top to write over the rice. With all prayers to the Goddess Durga and Saraswathi, I did my Vidyarambham in a modest way.

Here my mind wanders to a place –Aruvikkara ,my ever loving hometown in Kerala and time –Vidyarambham in the portico of my ancestral home ‘Puthumana’.The house is situated in a large property rich with greenery and the Karamana River flows through the property .Portico is the big  living room in our ancestral home .The room is enclosed by wooden grills in its 3 front sides and an adjoining room for diety worship (Thevaara Pura) & other parts of the house in the back. The  soft rays of the morning sun peeps through the gap between each of the wooden columns of the portico. Its floor is cemented and has a shining black surface. Even in the hot months of summer, the black floor remains cool as ever. (I am sure my explanation doesn’t do justice here.) And it is in this portico, members of the family join together for many occasions, such as Vidyarambham on Vijayadashami day. Perappan, dad’s eldest brother is the head of the family and does all the Pooja and arrangements. We all would have handed over our books to him to keep them for pooja the day before Mahanavami Day. On Vijayadashami Day everybody gather in portico for Vidyarambham. After the necessary poojas, Perappan will distribute the books to all. Everybody gets a pen/pencil, a quarter sheet of paper(not a bit more than that) , a Ramayana, Mahabharatha or Bhagavatha book. Then comes the fun part of writing.

We cousins start with 'Harisree ganapathaye nama'  and then proceed to write all the 51 alphabets in Malayalam language in the quarter sheet of paper given to us. It will go smoothly up to ‘cha’, ‘chha’, ‘Ja’. After the ‘Ja’ comes the villain – ‘Chjha’. Its always confusing owing to its multiple bends and rounds. Some of us will start to peep at the other person’s paper to see if he/she managed to write it correctly and if he/she does there ensues a mass copy . And the one who wrote it correctly, takes pride in his/her achievement –like “ u don’t know to write ‘Chjha’ ?! It’s the ‘Chjha’ as in ‘Chjhansi Rani" . The speed of English alphabet writing runs like a rabbit while the hindi goes like a turtle. Once the writing is done , we read the epic book that we received. The custom is to take the book, close your eyes and blindly select a page, then start to read from the 8th line in that page. Belief is that your luck for the year is decided by those lines you read from the 8th line. If I get the Ramayana Book I used to pray while blindly selecting a page that I should get a ‘Sundara kanda’ page –literally hoping the year ahead will be ‘Sundaram’ meaning Beautiful.

And then all start to read a page from their respective study book. All the budding engineering students might have silently prayed “Eeswara, suppli illathe ee subject nee onu pass aakki terane” . As the semesters passed, the suppli tension also reached high and so the no of books to keep for pooja.(Engineering drawing in S1/S2, Control systems in S3, Digital signal processing, electro magnetic theory in S6 ,list goes on…) . The most drooling part of the event –Prasadam distribution! Even though it can’t be said as the most delicious items, may be the atmosphere, the place, the togetherness & the fun made the mouth watering. The Portico was the place for many such occasions in our family. My Dad and 3 of his elder brothers, their children, grand children and my in laws lives in nearby houses in the same property. So for events like Onam, Vishu, Deepavali, and Pooja and for many family functions we used to join together in Portico.

That Portico is a part of my life. It contains not only the happiness and splendor on such occasions but also holds a good amount of grief, loss, sorrow and agony. There is much to say…The portico contains many essence of my childhood and in that childhood I was not alone. I was lucky to have such a wonderful childhood with all my lovable sisters & cousins. All these visuals passed through my mind when I sat there in front of my makeshift pooja stand. The Vidyarambham in Portico was the best Pooja celebrations I ever had and it will remain the same no matter where ever I live.

-R. (Originally written onThursday,October 6, 2011 at 4:16pm .Yeah, it took me yet another year to start blogging!)

The thoughts behind Gooseberry thoughts

I like to think things a lot, sometimes I keep thinking the same thing again and again , my emotions conflict  & I get happy and sad about the same thing at the same time.

I can get nostalgic for no worldly reasons. I am  very imaginative and I love to dwell in the imaginative world I thus create.

I don’t know what  I feel  the most – The delight  for the things I am blessed with or the melancholy about the things I would have gained but lost.. 

Gooseberry is a metaphor, what does one like most about it- the sourness when biting it or the sweetness when drinking water after biting it? Or to bite it again  just to enjoy the sweetness yet one more time ..

Just like that I live in my thoughts, trying to find  myself through my unsettled emotions.

From the moment I have  decided to set my foot in  the steps of blogosphere, I was in a dilemma as to  the  what, how and when? I would like to come clean on these 3 questions before I start to blog further.

1.       The mystery writer behind the screen?
I didn't have any doubts whether to blog or not. I definitely wanted to blog . In fact I was thinking of blogging from 2008 . The question was whether to blog anonymously or not ? I kept on thinking about this and I heard my own voice in my head as if in a Devil Vs Angel word war.

Devil: Look at the rewards for being an anonymous blogger ! I  can open up your mind to any extent. I can scream the truth. I can ,with no regrets ,disdain stuff that I don’t like, I don’t have to worry about the people acquainted/related /friend to me reading my blog and judging me . I don’t have to keep up to the expectation of those who thinks/knows I have a way with literature. It is  fun remaining  as  a mystery behind the screen.
Angel: But why should I hide myself ? This is my individuality. There are like-minds who appreciate the  ‘Me’ in me.
In this battle of Devil Vs Angel that lasted  4 years , the Angel won !

I asked myself  –  Why should I worry about others judging me ? I don’t mind as long as the person who matters to me the most  doesn't judge me.  And  I am hoping he won’t, he is the one person who really understands me inside out. The things I write about are my own personnel take about the matter. And Yes, I may change my take whenever I wish. I cannot please everybody , I will be happy if somebody is pleased by reading my blog and agrees to my view point. At the same time, another person can have a totally different  take on certain aspects.I respect that individuality and so please share your thoughts.

2.       What should I write?
Now that I have opened the doors to this virtual world, and have decided to  explore this different plane of virtual existence, how can  I survive here?What will keep my readers motivated or interested to continue reading my blog?
Well, I am not taking this as a mission at this time,  Though I am hoping there will be
 like-minded people I can befriend here and I look forward to it.

3.       How often should I write?
To be honest , I am not an instant writer- I cannot write about everyday life/stuff or  when life continues to flow through the same path  as usual. Though  I always get lost in thoughts , I can’t put them in to words unless I am struck by an intense wave of emotion or get into  a certain mood. Since one can’t plan such things  I don’ have an answer to this.

Now that the what, how and when are explained, let me go back to the realm of infinite thoughts .. Just like the Pooh Bear sitting there under the Sander’s tree and thinking what to think…

...
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Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh?" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's hand. "I just wanted to be sure of you.”

We'll be Friends Forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet.
"Even longer." Pooh answered.

Piglet: “Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?”
Pooh :  "You Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thinkish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.”
                                                                ************
I can't put it better than Pooh , about the myriad thoughts going through my head!!
-R.