Procrastination, Amnesia & then procrastination again....

This is a Tag I had received ages and ages ago from Naperville Mom of Ponderings of a Porcupine. Kept pushing it to the back of the cybershelf and then conveniently forgot all about it!

A fews days ago, a blogpost by a co-blogger regarding the same tag restored my amnesiac memory. Well, the chronic procrastinator that I am, again considerable time was spent dilly-dallying ..and now finally, here I am with the Tag...

The TAG is : A story revolving around the 6th Picture of the 6 Folder in my (digital) Photo-Basket ....

A down-in-the-dumps AD with tears streaking down her cheeks as her friends look on ....

On the morning of her Playschool's Annual Day, the excited kid was all eager to go to school and 'perform'. But the moment she entered the school gates, and saw the deluge of parents and grandparents waiting at the Shamiana for the programme to begin, my 'lion-indoors-but-timid-mouse-outdoors' AD burst out into tears and clung on to me, panicstricken....As I took her to their classroom which had her friends, teachers and ayahs 'waiting in the wings', she cooled down considerably. The little friends, wiped a tear or two and tried their best to cheer her up! It was such an amazing sight to see these three yrs somethings displaying such affection and camaraderie....I had my camera with me and clicked!

Of the many lovable pics clicked that morning, the above is the 6th Pic of the 6th Folder in my (Digital) PhotoBasket!

I am supposed to tag 6 persons....but I'll keep it open to ALL!

Whoever takes it up, do drop a line at my comment box so that I can stop by at your Blog to see your 6th Pic in your 6th Photo Folder!!

Mommification - Part II

"The world is full of women blindsided bythe unceasing demands of motherhood, still flabbergasted by how a job can be terrific and tortuous. " - Anna Quindlen

Motherhood...the most wonderful yet difficult of all responsibilities taken up by a woman.....the creation and nurturing of life, the shaping of a personality and the grooming of an individual.

Joy, ecstasy, anticipation, trepidation and panic...the first nine months of the process of creation was a medley of all these emotions and more...(Read here)

But when I first held this tiny scrap of a human, all I initially felt was wonder and awe. And then I fell in love.....forever and ever, never to recover!

And now my blogger friend, Imp's Mom, asks me to jot down five things I love about being a Mom.

In a sea of emotions, when I'm asked to pick five little scoops, what do I pick?

* Becoming a more sensitive and aware human....yes. Motherhood has made me a slightly better person. More aware and sensitive of my surroundings, to the environment, fellow humans in general and more grateful to the Almighty for having given me so much...

* The sensation when I see her face lighting up with joy the moment she spots me in a crowd or after the day in her school!

* When the drama queen that she is, asks me everyday, in her mushiest of voices, "Ma can you take me in your lap and put me to sleep?" ("Ma, tumi ki amaye kole niye ghoom parate paaro?). It's a daily routine, but everyday, my heart melts hearing these words.

*And when I pick her up to put her to sleep, I love the way she wraps herself like a little octopus and while pretending to go to sleep, keeps on with her non-stop chatter. (Of course, daily, the lovey-dovey cootchie cooing ends with a whack on her bums which FINALY and ACTUALLY puts her to sleep!)

*Reliving the little moments of childhood...the joy of playing with friends, the sorrow of being brushed aside or bullied, the angst of a fight, the demands for a her favourite food (which keeps changing) in her lunch box, the playacting where she's the Mom and all her toys are her children ! It's like I'm growing up again, through her , with her....

But Motherhood is always not sugary and sweet, it is not always showering love and indulgences..their are moments of anger and frustrations, tackling unruly behaviour, stubbornness and tantrums, difficult moments and tough decisions, anxious, heart wrenching moments of illness and pain.....

As it has been said ....
"Loving a child doesn't mean giving into all his whims; to love him is to bring out the best in him, to teach him to love what is difficult"

And with this thought, the Mommified me, carries on in the wondrous journey of motherhood...where as she grows,
basking in our love,
moulded by our teachings,
imbibing the influence of her surroundings,
manifesting her inherited genetic designs,

we (SD & I) grow with her....
maturing as persons,
learning the lessons of life,
unlearning bookish sermons and
relearning the world from a different perspective altogether....


And finally, I pass on this tag to five wonderful mothers....to share 5 things they LOVE about being a MOM
Naperville Mom, Sucharita, Roshni, Reflections and Reks

Off to a new start, with a prayer on my lips....

The D-day is almost round the corner!

With the arrival of the new uniforms, new books, crispy brown paper rolls, my excitement knows no bounds!!

I can finally take a long breath and state that the raving, ranting and tension of the past few months (here and here) are officially over. There was some confusion, nail biting sessions in between when we had to choose between the two schools into which AD had got admission. The choice was made after much deliberation and head breaking ...as if it was not admission to LKG but deciding and finalising a career choice!! Huh!! (Never imagined I would become a hyper Mom!!)

So my little one is on the threshold of a new world.....a world, which along with our love, support and guidance, will shape her into the person she will grow up to be....

There will be happy moments and sad.

Good times and bad....
Moments of achievements, success and highs.
Some of disappointments, frustrations and anxious sighs.
Bitter fights, scary scoldings, taunting and teasing.
Lunch times bursting with glee....eating, sharing, games and scraped knee!
Homework & tests, exams & marks end either in
Unbridled ecstasy or despair ..oh so stark!
Inspiring teachers who make learning a joy;
And devil's incarnates will be there too...devious tactics who love to employ.
Discipline and moral science,
Bunking classes and acts of defiance.
Favourite subjects and lousy ones.
Lots of Friends and loads of fun....
School life will be all this and more.
A storehouse of knowledge, values and wisdom galore
Hope my princess grows and imbibes
all that it takes to lead a sincere and honest life...

Weekend Woes & Midweek Ecstacy

Every Saturday morning I am in a horrendous mood to put it very mildly!

While I wake up in the normal ungodly hour and drag myself into the drudgery of everyday existence, SD and AD are blissfully asleep. Believe me, all kinds of nasty thoughts flit through my mind ... thoughts of how to shake from their slumberous stupor into complete wakefulness!! But the honourable wife and mother that I am (or attempt at being), however tempting the prospect may be, I desist from letting the devil in me take control and let my better and more noble self prevail.

But every Saturday, it is indeed sheer torture to go to office while the father-daughter duo indulge in their long lazy weekend activities....and my anguish reaches almost unbearable levels when a holiday on a Friday or a Monday (which I, the overworked and underpaid, am almost always deprived of....like on Easter...sob sob sob!!) add to their weekend ecstacy.

But this time, matters are a trifle different! I have been bestowed with a midweek holiday which neither SD nor AD have...the sadistic devil within me was ecstatic for a second or two before gloom descended....
what's the fun of a holiday in an empty home....
the spice of life lies in AD's mischief and mirth (which more often than not drives me nuts),
in SD's holiday-mood-induced-sloppy presence and quiet, deadpan, humour (which predictably almost always make me lose my temper, as it is intended to),
in the topsy-turvy, untidy mess the house turns into, everytime the father-daughter are at home (which again makes me shout out, in my most disciplinarian intonation, to retain orderliness and is ALWAYS ignored!) .

The laughter, the noise, the fights, the squabble, the medley of scattered toys-paints-crayons-newspaper-laptops, the special aroma from the 'holiday' kitchen are what our holidays are all about!

So on a midweek holiday, in an empty, orderly, silent house, what am I supposed to do?

Let's see.....maybe indulge in some me-time, pamper myself silly at a fancy parlour, or have a girls' day out with some friends, or JUST spend time sleeping late and lazing around!!!!

Summer Holidays

"Everybody has a summer holiday
Doing things they always wanted to"..... crooned Cliff Richard half a century ago.

And I couldnt agree more.....Summer Holidays or Goromer Chhuti were indeed the favourite and longest of all vacations during our growing up years. An almost two month long break from school, studies and schedule. Cousins coming over from different parts of the country. Lazy afternoons filled with games and gossip.

-Hide and seeks in the nooks and crannies of the attic and staircases, under the beds and behind the giant almirahs;
-climbing guava trees and scraping knees;
-listening to the radio in warm summer afternoons, all heads jostling for space right in front of the radio;
-recording our voices on the blank cassettes inserted into the coveted tape recorder;
-buying ice cream sticks from the ice-cream vendor who would take a break from his cart pushing right in front of our gate and call out "K..W...O....O...L....I...T...Y" repeatedly till we kids compelled our mothers to let us out and buy the orange or chocolate fudge sticks from him;
-sitting on the terrace oblivious to the blazing hot sun, gorging on the 'stolen' homemade mango/tamarind pickles, which had been put out on the terrace for the sun to give it a finishing touch;
-the Poila Boishaakh (Bengali New Years celebration on 14th/15th of April) celebrations and get-togethers....
Memories of summer holidays are full of fun, frolic and laughter. Days spent at cousins' or 'best' friends' places, family reunions and sometimes a family vacation.
Of course, the fights and squabbles, teasing and taunting, anger and making up were also there in all its glory...but that's what gave summer holidays its multihued tinge!

***

As I see my little AD growing up in a nuclear world so different from the one I grew up in, without her extended family to pamper and indulge her, I feel a trifle sad that she's missing out on the companionship and camaraderie with cousins and siblings that we took for granted. Her Summer Holidays too, are poles apart from our summer holidays.

In her world, routine is not abandoned for a month or two. The scheduled life goes on....The long and relaxed, fun-filled vacations are replaced by choc-a-block activity filled summer camps. Not camps in the true sense of the word, but planned, 'scientifically' chalked out programmes to keep kids busy in a host of creative lessons and activities. A continuation of her playschool sans the academics....I wonder whether they are half as much fun as the impromptu and myriad activities we indulged in during our prolonged vacations, eons ago....I hope so.

Times have changed. We parents are busy. And corporate jobs do not give us the luxury of long vacations. And living in a city with no family and equally busy friends as our social network, with cousins and extended families scattered all over the globe, summer holidays of yore have become an almost extinct phenomenon.

So the much advertised, exhorbitantly priced summer camps are not an option but more a necessity!

Last week as I went on a short trip to attend the last rites of my Mamu, AD met some of her cousins for the first time...Dadas (elder brother), didis (elder sister), bon and bhai (sister and brother). They played, they fought, they squabbled over a box of crayons or a teddy or just fought for the sake of fighting. They made up and played again....to fight all over again.....
I was glad ... to give her a slice of life as it was when we were kids. To cherish the companionship, the unadulterated love, the complex rivalry, the bowing down to say sorry, to resume normalcy and let bygones be bygones...

I hope every year, if not a long leisurely one, at least a fun filled brief holiday with cousins is what I can gift my AD...so that she grows up with her own handycam stored memories of summer holidays in contrast to our album filled with sepia tinged snapshots.....

"We're all going on a summer holiday.
No more working for a week or two.
Fun and laughter on a summer holiday...."

Morning Cheer!

Putting her to bed and making her sleep is a perennial fight! Various strategies, carrot dangling, and more often than not a whack succeed in making her succumb. Yesterday night the tussle was on in full swing, and AD was at her crankiest best, throwing a tantrum so that she be allowed to watch Jungle Book. I tried to calm myself and instead of the light whack strategy, decided to 'talk' to her. I sweetly told her (while grinding my teeth in anger within...the time was 11:45pm and my patience level was at its lowest ebb!!!) that she needed to sleep and sleep quick so that she could wake up with a smiling face just like Mowgli does!

Surprisingly...she slept soon after. Whether my words had any effect or she was too tired to resist sleep any longer, I know not.

I woke up today morning with a 'HA HA HA' sound by my side. (Believe me, it was really the theatrical HA HA HA!).
My AD, with her eyes closed, was laughing out loud. And she instantly opened her eyes, shining with happiness, and informed me ...
"Ma, shokaal hoye gechhe...dekho ami Mowgli'r moto haashi haashi ghoom theke uthechhi...ekhon ami Mowgli dekhte parbo!!" ("Ma, it's morning! I have woken up with a smile/laugh, just like Mowgli....I can watch Mowgli now!!")

I was too stunned to react...was she dreaming of the morning cheer & Mowgli all night??

Einstein @ 5 or Tagore @ 4? Make a choice and make it FAST!!!

AD’s playschool cum Daycare Centre has been recently acquired by a franchisee run company. In its previous avatar, it was a Mom and Pop establishment ..an informal setup with excellent infrastructure, lot of space, warm and friendly teachers and care givers and a high standard of hygiene. In its present and more glamorous avatar, it has assumed a pseudo corporate getup! Amidst the various improvement schemes, a newsletter- cum- group mail system has been introduced through which we get notices, information about the school & activities and also feedbacks sent by various parents and guardians are circulated to all other parents.

Today I received one such email …a feedback from a parent singing paeans about the school . I was about to click the window shut, when something in the latter part of the mail caught my eye and I couldn’t help but read on….a wish list for his 9 month old baby enrolled in the daycare.
Just reproducing the relevant part of the email :

“Wish list from our side:
1. In addition to the good care that day care kids are getting, we will really appreciate if some brain development programs are conducted for kids of age 6 months and more. We attended a session in our office from K...Gl... school staff (http://k...gl....com/). Please go through the website and see their presentation. We are not suggesting you to copy them, but we feel there is no harm in getting good things from anyone. They have some programs for brain development based on research done by an American scientist Glenn Doman. They claim that babies of 6 months can learn reading. Curious to dig further, we searched internet and found many web sites and research articles that support this fact. For example: see the video (with sound ON) at the home page of this website - http://www.y....c...com/ . Also there are lots of videos available on you tube...."

I was initially amused and then wondered, where are we heading? Is it really needed….a 6 month old baby reading?

What’s next? PhD in Astrophysics at the age of 5yrs?

Why cant we let babies be what they are supposed to be ....just babies! And let them grow at their own pace!!!

The sky high and sometimes impossible dreams parents dream on behalf of their kids put tremendous pressure on the kids to perform. Some kids either baulk under the burden of expectations or just give up on life in general. With students' suicides on the rise, isnt it time, we, as parents introspect....restrain our ambitions from setting unattainable targets for the child and let them 'grow' and 'bloom' first into good human beings and not mere degree spewing/money-churning machines.

HAPPINESS is no more

An email which left me sitting still on my chair for I dont know how long. An email about a little girl of 11 years. An email about the girl called 'HAPPINESS'**.
HAPPINESS is no more.....
She was my ex-colleague's only child.

One day of fever....normal at any age
Consulation with doctors the next day....normal routine whenever someone isnt well
Declared dead within 15 minutes of 'checkup' (the staff tried to give oxygen followed by administration of IVF) by the doctor's team where parents were not allowed, despite the child yelling for them ...Abnormal
Death Certificate claiming it to be Dengue....Abnormal

As a mother who has had the misfortune of seeing her 11 month child suffer in dengue, I know for sure that Dengue cannot be detected in a day and cannot be confirmed without specific bloodtests.

A wrong treatment resulting in a death. Who do we blame?
A system gaping with loopholes ?
Callous, incompetent and mercernary doctors ?
Or destiny?

A case can be filed against the hospital and doctor. And ought to be.
But who will do it?
-The shocked and traumatised father who still hasnt come to terms with his tragedy and still walks around talking to the daughter he had taken walking, to the doctor's clinic?
-Or the mother who sits silent and dazed ...her eyes devoid of any emotion?

HAPPINESS is dead. Her parents' lives have come to a standstill.
But the hospital and doctors continue to do their 'business' of licensed killing.

**-The child's name meant HAPPINESS in Sanskrit

Pricks and Pain

AD is down with fever since yesterday evening. So I am at home today trying to keep a physically down but high spirited 3 year old entertained. When I realised that it may be a bit more than just fever as she was throwing up whatever she was eating, took her to the Paediatrician who apart from prescribing a few medicines, prescribed some blood tests. A petrified me shuddered while remembering the several nightmarish incidents of taking blood samples from AD in past 22 months that we've been in this city at the so-called reputed and much frequented clinics and diagnostic labs of the city. As I drove to the recommended lab, I said a silent prayer to the ALL-POWERFUL-UP-THERE, to let the blood drawing be fast and smooth and let the already sick baby not be troubled further.

As it turned out, GOD, I guess, was busy or my prayers were not weighty enough....

As I entered the clinic AD bombarded me with questions as to why we were-where-we-were and I tried to calmly explain that to cure her tummy ache and fever, some tests had to be done. She screamed a loud NOOOO and I had to almost drag a suspended-in-air kid to the reception counter where the uniformed people gave us a bright smile and a candy to my AD. To avoid recurrences of the past, I enquired whether the lab technicians were experienced to draw blood samples from kids whose veins were too fine to be detected easily. They verbally assured me of their expertise and busied themselves in preparing the bill. As an uniformed employee of the clinic accompanied me to the 'Sample Room' and explained in the local language (which I am ashamed to say I dont understand but my daughter does and hence started bawling!) about the test, I repeated my query regarding his expertise. He looked blankly at me for a second and mumbled something unintelligible and took the rubber tying band and tied it on the left arm of an almost hysterically howling child. No soft words of reassurance, no mild handling of her arm. I kept my temper in wraps. He pressed here and poked there to decipher a vein but his incompetence was too evident to be ignored. I firmly put a stop and repeated (this time sternly) whether any competent person was around , otherwise I would prefer to go to another clinic. Hearing my raised voice (probably), a confident and very busy looking lady-in-a-white coat entered the room. Without giving me a glance, she once again tied the rubber band of AD's arm. Took out a disposable syringe and got down to work, oozing confidence. I was assured. (That appearances can be deceptive, I realised much later.) Deciding not to interfere further, I tried to do my part of the work by soothing AD and distracting her from the morbid going ons.

In the next few seconds (or was it minute I dont know!) what happened shocked me at the insensitivity and lack of professionalism. The lady pricked AD deftly (it was pseudo deftness) and when no blood would come out (as it wasnt a vein at all), she continued twiggling and turning the needle under the skin making the child scream in pain. She took it out and was about to prick it at another point to continue with her trial and error mode of extracting blood, when I hollered and hollered out LOUD...thus making her stop short. I yanked the band off AD's arm and asked her to just let us go. We did not want HER or the bl***y clinic's services. I walked off with a howling, child running a temperature and in (inflicted) pain due to the incompetence and sheer callousness of a bunch of people who open fancy clinics to mint money. As I was about to exit from the premises, the receptionist returned the money I had paid. I was too angry to care ....

I went to another clinic. AD again was hysterical fearing a probable repeat act of the horrendous experience! This time luck was on our side. An expert nurse was on duty. And the whole process of blood drawing was over even before AD could fill enough air into her lungs to scream out loud! I thanked her profusely with tears in my eyes. She was too taken aback to receive my sincere gratitude for a mundane task she probably does countless times a day...

Well, God finally found the time, I guess, to receive my SOS and act upon it!!!

Adieu Babyhood!

Adieu Babyhood, Welcome Girlhood!
Today I'm a wee bit sad. Yet happy. Strange we are and strange are our mixed feelings which more often than not defy logic!
Today my baby shed the last remnant of her babyhood. The thrill was there indeed but a twinge of sadness enveloped it.
AD has been an early talker and a coherent and logical one at that. At the age of three years four months, she not only speaks fluently but often (to my utter amazement and at times shock & despair) argues vehemently, and often cracks jokes. But despite these precocious tendencies, the babyhood was firmly in its place due to the lisping of the ‘R’s into ‘L’s. Like a Rose would be a Lose, a Rabbit would be a Labbit and so on.
In her make believe world, where she’s the perennial Hanuman (and sometimes Mowgli), and SD oscillates between ‘Ram’ - ‘Ravana’ (and ‘Sher Khan’-'Baloo'), the battles between Hanuman (or Mowgli) and Ravana (or Sher Khan) are fought valiantly during many a bedtime with the pillows and bedsheets doubling up as the pseudo-killer weapons, the war cry of “Lavana” (or SHEL Khan)!!! would have us into splits.
Today during one such bedtime ritual between father-daughter, I stopped in my steps when I heard a distinct RAVANA instead of the usual LAVANA!
I couldn’t believe my ears.
I turned to AD and asked her to name her favourite flower and crystal clear came her reply “ROSE” and not the expected “LOSE”.
Thrilled instantly that the baby lisp was cured, the mother in me suddenly descended into gloom…my baby’s growing up and growing up too fast.
I was already missing the lovable lilting "Ling-a-ling-a-loses…” and "Lound and Lound the Mulbelly bush....."
Goodbye babytalk! Welcome girlietalk!

Bibliography

Hanuman, Ram, Ravan - Characters in the Indian Epic RAMANAYA.

Mowgli, Baloo, Sher Khan-Characters in Jungle Book.

Mommification-Part 1

A mundane activity like an enrollment into an online community 'Mom Bloggers Club' brought back a rush of memories...

I was never the maternal kind though I always loved babies. Others' babies... My cousins' kids, friends' kids, the neighbours' kids. Till I was well into my twenties, the thought never occured to me as to how I would react to being a mother myself. However, contradictory though it may sound, that I would have a child was never even a question in my mind. Call it social conditioning or a latent feminine instinct, I knew I would.
So when I conceived, elation, excitement and happiness were the prevailing emotions during the whole tenure of 9 months. Maybe the pampering and love & care I received from all my loved ones and well wishers contributed greatly to my consistent positive state of mind througout the period.

Well there was a short break in this uniformly hunky-dory state of affairs!
Just a day prior to my scheduled Caesarian Operation, the day after the Doc gave the verdict that Caesarian it would be, the fact hit me that life wouldnt be the same anymore.
All of a sudden a black cloud eclipsed the excitement, the nervous-anticipation, the euphoria of planning, that had been the flavour of the past nine months. A claustrophobic fear gripped me, assaulting me almost physically, terrifying me at the thought of a cataclysmic change creating havoc in my usual orderly life. The gargantuan responsibility of a human being would be on me. Just as I ran to my Mom at the slightest hint of a problem, to the tiny scrap of a human being who would be arriving the next day, I would be expected to be the SuperMom with all the answers. I shuddered involuntarily......
Believe me, that one day was sheer torture. SD took me on a long drive to calm my nerves, and followed it up with a nonsensical movie to distract me. He was only partially successful.

The long, depressing day ended. Like the new dawn, I woke up...refreshed, rejuvenated and happy. My change of mood surprised me the most. The depression of the day before seemed like a forgettable nightmare. The day began on a beautiful and auspicious note. The autumn weather was at its best. The Kaash Phool swaying in the wind, the azure blue sky and the fleecy white clouds bathed in the soft golden sunlight were sending out a cheerful note of optimism all around as if nature was all geared up to welcome the DEVI in all its splendour. What better day to welcome the life within me to Planet Earth? That beautiful Autumn Day transformed my life forever...with a change of status...from a Woman/Wife/Daughter/Sister to MOTHER of my princess!

I was MOMMIFIED for life!

Bibliography :

Devi - Devi is the Sanskrit of Goddess. Here it means Devi Durga, a manifestation of Shakti, who is worshipped during September-October.

Kaash Phool - A seasonal grass with white flowers which bloom during Autumn. A common sight in Bengal and signals that Durga Pujas are just a few days away.

BRAIN JAM

A writer's block we've heard of!! But a blogger's block? What's that?? Well....When bloggers like me, who have nothing earth shattering to write about, who just blabber away whatever comes to mind, who love indulging their latest whim of blogging, are at a loss of things to say, that is, I guess, a BLOGGERS' BLOCK!! The problem is I want to blog but my grey cells up there arent co-operating...hence bear with me..indulge me please!!!!

Life has been terribly boring of late. Well, not quite. Friday - Saturday were quite different - exciting, if I may say so. Saturday was spent celebrating Saraswati Puja and especially AD’s ‘Haathe Khori’ or formal initiation into education with the blessings of the Goddess of Learning. Friday evening was spent in doing the preparation and groundwork for the religious fervour we were subjected to the next day.
Realisation dawned on me that I was growing old. How else could I explain, why all of a sudden I had become such a sucker for tradition and ritual!! Agreed, I never was an atheist or the ridiculously rebellious kind. But I don’t remember being a stickler for the intricate rituals associated with our Pujas and Prasad preparations. In the past I was quite happy being the onlooker. Was it the parenting bug within me which was making me do all this under its spell? Just to ensure that AD grows up with bits and pieces of tradition....who knows?

Well, all went well...except the fact that the three hour long puja ritual during which it was mandatory to sit on the floor cross-legged left my legs and feet numb and subsequently aching! Another proof of my advancing years!!!

Though winter was conspicuous by its total absence from this city, at least the last few months were pleasant. With February just having begun, one would expect a few more weeks of pleasant evenings. But Global Warming or sheer callousness of the weather Gods, whichever way one looks at it, Summer has set in!! Fans and Air-conditioners have begun their round the clock duties!!
Wonder if this trailer to the scorching summer months ahead, has anything to do with my dysfunctional brain cells!!

Mothering HANUMAN

Remember my blog entry on School Admissions?
Well…the tension has now reached a peak.
The actual interviews / interaction sessions have begun. And my worst fears are all coming true.
* For 30-40 seats, there are about 1500 applicants, if not more.
* My daughter’s unpredictability is on the rise.
School No.1: She refused to say hello. And that’s not all, upon being offered candies, not only did she grab a handful, she wouldn’t say THANK YOU! We were red-faced with embarrassment.
We didn’t want to create a scene and left it at that. On our way back, when I asked her why she was so unresponsive, her casual “I wasn’t in the mood for conversation” (Kotha bolar mood chhilo na) left me dumbstruck.
School No.2 : While going to the school, I was having my usual chat with my little girl. The normal stuff we talk about everyday on our way to and from her playschool but in a slightly more structured manner....like her name and colours and other stuff she may be asked in the interview. She was particpating in her normal enthusiastic manner. I was relieved but the butterflies kept fluttering in my tummy...

When in the room, the friendly teacher, after the initial greetings, asked my daughter her name. After the initial silence, she looked up with an impish grin, her eyes gleaming with mischief and proclaimed “I’m Hanu!!!!!” I CRINGED and nudged her. She clarified in a louder voice..”I’m Hanuman, this is Sita-Ma(pointing towards me) and that’s Ravan (pointing towards my husband)”
The teacher, after a momentary pause, burst out laughing and commented “very imaginative..she's very fond of Ramayana, is she?”

Interviews for School No.3 and 4 are scheduled for next week.

Would you still say that my hypertension is unfounded???

Bibliography

Hanuman : The Monkey God. An important personality in the Indian epic Ramayana.

Ravan : The villain in the Indian epic Ramayana. His ten-headed persona fascinates my little girl

Sita-Ma : The wife of Sri Rama in the Indian epic Ramanayana.

Trivia or Truth? A peek into our 'Education Industry'

In India there is a myth….which may also be interpreted as a joke. That when you conceive your baby, you register her/his name in the school or playschool of your choice to ensure admission a couple of years thereafter.

That it is a myth or a joke, was a misinformation.
It is neither... Well, at the most it is an exaggeration...but definitely not a myth neither a joke!

I realized this recently when my daughter completed three years and we started enquiring about schools. Browsing through the websites of various reputed school, another fact which hit me was that in some cities of our country (in my hometown of Kolkata, for example), she would have lost an academic year because she falls short of the ‘CUT OFF’ date for admission by 4 days!!!

Yes! Had she been born 4 days earlier she would have gained a year, at least academically!!

If only I knew, I would have asked the doctor to advance the Caesarian operation by four days ! Huh!!!! What a joke!

Yes, in our country that is what school admission procedure is all about.
Well to make matters worse, in some (read ALL METROS) cities, money is the solution to all hurdles of education. The more you ‘donate’ the better the school your child gets admission in. A Lakh or so for your three year old!!! Too expensive? Who cares.....

And of course I forgot the recommendation part….an MP, MLA, or for that matter any ‘angootha-chhap’ politician or someone with some clout in the society or government will make the admission process a cake walk.

The admission process begins in another day or two…commencing with the form distribution, followed by interview (of the parents and their two and a half to three year old unpredictable, temperamental kids!).

I am tensed and anxious! My husband is cool and unperturbed! And the person (albeit a miniature one but a person she sure is!) in question, whose academic future or non-future is to be determined in a month or so, is NOT EVEN AWARE that the first judgemental event of her life is about to happen.
I guess, amongst the three, the onus of worrying and anxiety falls on me…!!!!

Bibliography:

Angootha chhap-A Hindi terminology used colloquially to imply illiterate individuals who place thumb impressions on written documents in lieu of signatures

Tears

Last night I cried.
No, I was not struck by tragedy. Neither was any member of my family and friends…for which I thank God!
We are unharmed by the horror that ripped apart so many lives and shattered hundreds of families. But still ...despite being apparently unscathed, I could not stop my tears from flowing....
I cried while struggling to put my three year old child to sleep.
I cried looking at my sleeping baby.
I cried thinking of a two year old motherless child in a faraway land who was forced to become ‘the child of the entire nation’.
I cried thinking of the times he would want a mother to play with, be mischievous and throw tantrums typical of a toddler….but wont have the indulgent mother looking on.
I cried thinking of the pampering, scolding, admonishing that a two year old is subjected to by loving parents but which he’ll be deprived of.
I cried as he will not even have the memory of his mother’s love, father’s care…
I cried for an unknown orphan in a faraway land.
I shivered in fear as I looked down at the other sleeping child cocooned and safe in her mother’s lap.
Is she safe?
Are any of our children safe even in the haven of their homes?

Hyderabadi Hiccups

The City of Pearls and Nizams, forts and monuments, dotted with lakes and rocky hills... Steeped in history and culture, here the confluence of multitude of religions rendered it a novel charm of harmonious co-existence. Life was graceful and slow-paced. ‘Tehzeeb’ and nawabi etiquette were true to form in all strata of society…be it the lowest rungs or the upper echelons of the social hierarchy.

Hyderabad was all of the above and more…Hyderabadi way of life was unique because of its multifaceted hues.

Then came the windfall. A whirlwind of growth frenzy and development brought about a metamorphosis… And Hyderabad, in a span of few years transformed itself to Hi—tech city aka Cyberabad.

The city changed … and how!
The indulgent way of life had to give way to breakneck speed.
Hyderabad became a ‘happening’ place to be in - with almost every IT giant one can think of, making Hyderabad its major hub; with a booming real estate with massive projects coming up; with SEZs mushrooming in surrounding districts; with a swanky airport of international standards to boast of; with bright, young professionals flocking to the city from all over the country and different parts of the world.

What more could Hyderabad ask for? Unfortunately, MORE..MUCH MORE - better service, better work culture, sense of punctuality, a positive and proactive attitude, to say the least!

The new makeover was too sudden and at too alarming a speed. The common man, used to the nawabi culture and an inherent attitude of indolence and procrastination, COULD NOT and DID NOT keep pace with the speed of transformation.


My husband and I are part of the burgeoning professionals who have made Hyderabad their home in the recent past.

Moving to any new place is a mammoth and tiresome task, settling down to new environs is not easy.
But in Hyderabad, the difficulties are several times more, thanks to a pathetic, uninformed and lackadaisical local service sector…
- be it a driver who oversleeps and forgets to report to work; or
- a car mechanic who responds to a complaint of a broken silencer two months later, expecting that the repair job would be waiting for him ; or
- uninformed / untrained sales personnel at departmental stores who respond to a request of the modest eau de cologne with a blank stare followed by directions to a shelf stacked with Colins cleaner.

I can cite a zillion such instances which I have been experiencing in the past twenty months that I have been in the city. Some, on hindsight, are so comical that one forgets how exasperating and irritating they were when they had actually happened!!

An illustration :
Last year, just after shifting, I called a carpenter to fix a shelf. After at least a dozen phone calls and half a dozen visits to his workshop, he finally took pity on my desperation, and obliged me by coming over to ‘have a look’ at the dimensions and estimate the raw materials needed. It was the humblest of shelves, with no ornamentation, just utilitarian to keep my printer. A job of not more than half a day. Well, after his first ‘visit’, he decided to disappear once again. Again I resumed the phone calls and trips to his workshop. Finally he relented. He came with the materials, started the job, made the two supports to which the plank of wood was supposed to be fixed, cut the plank of wood as per the required dimensions. And before he could proceed, he received an ‘emergency’ phone call and with the ongoing job and materials scattered all over the floor, he again did the disappearing act…NEVER TO RETURN, despite several dozen attempts at contacting him..
A fortnight or so later he called me, demanding payment for the material and work (he seemed to have been afflicted by selective amnesia, choosing to conveniently forget, that the work, for which he was demanding payment, remained unfinished). I burst out in anger, ranted and raved. But to no avail. That was the last I heard of him or from him and I was just too tired and disgusted to care.
The plank of plywood was later utilized as a makeshift shelf where I dare not keep the printer!!
Please note that the carpenter did not even bother to collect money for the raw materials he bought!!!

Some not so comical ones…
For the past one and a half month my microwave is out of order.
Initially, the oven door had come off. The response to the complaint lodged with the call centre was snail paced. The technician decided to turn up a good ten days later. He reported that the door needed to be replaced which would be done within two days. I was surprised, as the door, to me, looked in fine shape except for the joints. But the technician would know better…or so I thought!
Another week or so passed by and when I again called up the fellow (I had been wise enough to have stored his mobile no.) he informed me that new doors of that model were out of stock and he would come and repair the existing door! Well, if the existing one was repairable why bother to prescribe replacement in the first place, I asked, but to myself. I was too happy that the microwave would be operational the next day. So I did not dare ask too many questions. The technician turned up two days later, repaired the door, collected Rs.400/- and left. My maid informed me (over phone as I was at work) with great pleasure that the ‘mesheeen’ was working.
She was the happiest as the chore of heating food is so much more simplified with the ‘mesheen’ in action!
But our happiness was short-lived.
The door was fine, but now, due to his inefficiency or lack of skill, the technician had dismantled and reassembled the machine in such a manner that it was not working at all. Another technician came after a week of phone calls and we were finally asked to send it to their workshop where it is still being ‘repaired’ (or further destroyed!!). Our wait is on…

My three year old goes to one of the better playschool cum day-care centres in an upmarket locality of the city. The school has great infrastructure, pleasant teachers, adequate outdoor play areas which satisfied my husband and me enough to entrust them with the responsibility of our baby for almost ten hours a day. Last week while I was discussing the activities of the kids with one of the teachers, I casually mentioned Montessori method assuming it to be common knowledge. I was shocked and amazed that the terminology was as alien to her as Greek is to me.

These instances, you would say, can happen in any Indian city. Maybe….though I’m sceptical that the levels of service in any of our other BIG cities can be this poor. What makes the lack of professionalism and efficiency all the more glaring is the cost factor - The charges for the substandard services doled out are exorbitant and could be amongst the highest in the country. The price charged for the sheer indifference, complacency, lack of interest and absence of adequate skills, is mind boggling..

Well, from all of the above, you would conclude that I hate the city. Strangely enough, I don’t. Though neither am I magnanimous enough to love it.

A city like Hyderabad, with its peculiarities and nuances, grows on you. Its myriad contrasts are almost a microcosm of the India of today-where development and backwardness co-exist with glaring obviousness.
But to rise above the average, retain its growth spurt and make it a city of high standards, a remedy for the HICCUPS IN THE LIFE OF A COMMON MAN IN HYDERABAD, has to be developed.
Because hiccups may be just a mild discomfort, but if they persist, life becomes sheer HELL and are indications of bigger problems to come!!!!

Bibliography : Tehzeeb - An Urdu word which means manners / etiquette

Of Babas and Babies...

A mother of an almost three year old, life in the past three years has been a roller coaster ride of amazement, wonder, exasperation, anxiety and tests of innovation & imagination..

My little girl is a veritable chatterbox who, every morning, starts talking with her eyes closed, even before she’s fully awake…

She was an early speaker and by the time she was two years old, she just about repeated anything and everything she heard. So we had to become careful of what we uttered and self censorship was essential.

One fine morning, I heard her call out to my husband by his name instead of the usual ‘Baba’. And throughout the day it was repeated everytime she wanted to call out to her father. Asking her not to call him by his name was ignored.
Both my husband and I initially found it funny and sweet but realized that the habit HAD to be nipped in the bud. It was just NOT ACCEPTABLE!
But we were at a loss of how to go about it….because making it an issue and admonishing or scolding a two year old would be ineffective or worse, counter-productive.

A few days later an idea struck and I thought to myself…why not implement it….

I started calling my husband “Baba” making sure that my little lady got to hear it every time I called out. We stopped correcting her when she called her father by his name and decided to ignore it for the time being…
The little mimic that she had become, our strategy worked and “Baba” was what she resumed calling her Dad.
Well, all’s well that ends well, you would say.So very true…

But the twist in the tale is - I carried on calling my husband “Baba” and continue to do so till date… it's become habit!!
Bibliography - Baba : father