Musings on my first two months in the US

It’s been two eventful months since we landed in the USA; a land so foreign and yet so familiar. Foreign because it’s my first time to actually come here; familiar because it has been part of my world almost on a daily basis thanks to all the TV, movies and anecdotes shared by my mother-in-law. What did I expect? I expected everything to be shiny, gleaming and new, technologically so advanced that I had never seen anything like it before. Was it all that and more? Read on

What I loved most

I loved the independence this place gave me. My biggest fear was that I would be marooned in the new country, unable to move around on my own without someone to perhaps drive me around. I needn't have been afraid.  Within the first ten days of landing I took my first train ride – alone (unless you count the 3.5 yr old with me) and from there it just got better and better. Path rides to New York, a ferry to World Trade Centre, light rails for shorter distances and loads of walking around on the beautiful side-walks that criss-cross the city.

A unique experience

The shopping trip to the Ikea furniture store was certainly an experience like never before. In India we would walk into the showroom, choose the product and have it delivered home with someone coming to assemble it shortly. Here we first had to select the product, write down all the code numbers (I had no idea what the husband was actually writing down) and then go down to the warehouse. At the warehouse, there were numbered aisles (ah! Now the codes started making more sense) from which we had to go and pick up  the unassembled pieces of furniture in cardboard boxes. A sprained wrist later – the hubby, not me, we managed to collect everything and send it for shipping.  The next shocker-having to assemble this all together, patience never having being one of my virtues, it was again left to the husband to painstakingly put together the bed, with dozens of tiny little screws, nuts and bolts. A whole days work, phew!

The thing I hate

Well, hate may be a strong word but it is kind of tiresome to start almost from scratch again, from stocking the kitchen larder to buying all our furniture. Undeniably retail therapy has its perks but it can be unpleasant to have these pangs of longing for your fruit bowl or baking dishes, sigh!

What makes my heart sing

Getting out of the house and seeing people from different races, ethnicities, countries, just makes me happy. I grew up in a very multi-cultural atmosphere as part of the big naval family but the US just takes it to another level. I have arguably heard more Indian languages on the streets of Jersey City that I have heard in Bangalore.

What I thought I would miss but don’t

My much bigger house and my maids, and that’s probably connected. It’s the first time in my life that I am staying in a house so small with just one bedroom and a bath. On the plus side it’s easy to clean and adequate for our little family. It will probably get cramped when friends or family come to visit but we haven’t got there as yet. As for my maids, I am happy to replace them with the dishwasher, dryer and vacuum. Disclaimer- that is the unemployed me talking we will see how it goes once I get a job.

When Life has other plans!

Planning a date night isn’t what it used to be. It’s not about sneaking around or curfews anymore, it’s now more about figuring out whether the place is kid friendly or not. Clubbing and partying are pleasant memories of what seems like a distant past but today was going to be different, I had it all planned out.

The little one was going to have her first sleepover with the grandparents; she was super excited and Mom and Dad were going to have a night out, I was equally thrilled! Since we are new to the city, I checked with a few friends for recommendations and then shortlisted a couple of places based on their online reviews.

The review for this place said that the music was good - the only word of caution being that the dance floor was small and it usually got packed so you might find it difficult to do your moves. Here I was expecting to be pushed and shoved on the dance floor but contrary to expectations not one note of music played and we were a tiny crowd of two. With a touch of skepticism sneaking into my happy heart we settled down anyway. I reasoned with myself that we were probably the early birds and the party would get started a little later. Twenty minutes later when the waiter arrived with our drinks I tentatively asked him when the crowd was likely to start coming in. With an apologetic look he said that since a temple next door was celebrating its festival there was a ban on music and so they weren't really expecting a crowd tonight. Crrraack! The sound of my well laid plans shattering.

Not to be out done we decided to finish our drinks in a hurry and head out to the next place on the shortlist. Being newbies to the city we were relying on the GPS to for directions. Unfortunately the GPS seemed to have plans of its own, it kept leading us to the gate of a park and insisted that we needed to drive through; incidentally the park had been closed for the night. Despite all our attempts to get it to re-route it wouldn't budge, finally after spending half an hour going around in circles (quite literally) we gave up and decided to get into the next place we saw.

Expecting the worst we walked in but much to our surprise the place was pulsating with great music and had quite the swish set of people around. The beef burger I ordered was simply divine – the best I have ever had and the hubby had a mean pepperoni pizza. The service was excellent and we topped it off with a delicious Tiramisu.

Life is sometimes like that, you have your best laid plans which don’t work out and then you end up going around in circles for a while before you stumble onto something quite unexpected but which could leave you pleasantly surprised. 

Walls

Hundreds of homes

crunched close together

yet far apart

separated by walls

walls of concrete, of glass and floating walls of cloth

outside I can see

so much activity

busyness, frantic and fast

yet I wonder

what is hidden behind those walls?

Tears, solitude, blood or lust?

Cocooned, making it perfectly possible to be all alone in a crowd

Because every day is not Valentine’s Day

I am a sucker for Valentine’s Day, and Birthdays and Anniversaries. I just need an excuse to celebrate. This year I saw a few lovey-dovey posts on facebook for Valentine’s Day which claimed that every day was Valentine’s Day with their soul mate. I am a bit incredulous when I hear something like that, not because I am a cynic but because for me every day simply cannot be Valentine’s Day. In between chores and long working hours, toddler tantrums and the daily grind, many a day runs along without a chance for cuddles and sweet nothings being exchanged with the love of my life. Is this a reflection that we care less for each other now than six years ago when during our courtship the romantic gestures were grander? I think not, we certainly love each other more today, we are more in tune, and we have a lovely girl who just strengthens this bond between us. Having said that, sometimes I think we do take our loved ones for granted, not just our partners but maybe also our parents or siblings or best friends. I am polite, energetic, humorous, and on my best behavior when I am the “Trainer at Work” but when I get back home at the end of the day I may just want to crawl into bed or tune out in front of the TV. So when a special occasion comes along it’s a great chance to show your loved ones how much you care. Sometimes you may feel pressured by all the commercialization that such “days” have undergone but celebrations aren't about buying each other expensive presents it’s about little things that matter much. Maybe it’s a lovingly cooked meal, a card that you hand painted or a nice back rub, none of which need to cost big bucks. And that’s my case for celebrating special occasions because after all it’s not just the day you are celebrating but the person and the relationship you share.

Flights of Fantasy!

Lights, camera , action…Bollywood here I come!!! Now don’t get me wrong it’s not a career in acting that I am after, its stardom, nothing less than the lead role for me. When did this obsession start? Well, it can probably be traced back to those early days when I used to traipse around the living room, Mum’s dupatta in tow which was my handy prop, turning into my lovely locks one moment, into my sari the next. At age five of course this was perfectly acceptable, the darling antics of a precocious child. My parents were indulgent and forced many an Uncle and Aunty to sit through the entire rendition of a Sridevi number in their daughter’s inimitable style with applause and exclamations at all the appropriate places.

That was at five at 15 these things just weren’t so amusing anymore, it was the year of the “Board Exam”. It was time to banish the dreams of ever being the Bubbly to the Banti and concentrate on one’s studies instead.  So I walked the much trodden path, got a respectable 80% in my tenth went on to do my arts in Junior College (Oh yes, that way my parents are pretty liberal they didn’t insist I became a Doctor or Engineer), topped my university for my graduation, sailed through my MBA and finally landed a job through campus placement in a well respected MNC. 

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I am not unhappy, in any case Mr. Bhansali or Karan J might never have discovered me, after all I don’t have the smile of a Madhuri or the oomph of a Malika. What’s more, my dear old grandparents in Trichur are spared the embarrassed squirming as their conservative neighbors speak in hushed tones about the pavam menons’ whose granddaughter doesn’t seem to be able to afford enough clothes. Yet when the lights go off and the film begins to roll I always wish I had given my fantasy wings to fly

The Birthday Party

Ria woke up and slowly opened her eyes – “Oh my God it’s my birthday today” said a voice in her head, she jumped out of bed and did a little jig. Finally 365 days after her last birthday this one had finally come.

She tip toed out of her bedroom, everyone was already up and busy doing their bit for tonight’s party. First she caught sight of her grandfather blowing the balloons, oh my, his cheeks looked quite red and puffy from all that blowing. From the kitchen she could hear the clanging of pots, the cooker whistling and her grandmother humming as she rustled up one lip smacking treat after another. She had overheard her mother and grandmother planning the menu yesterday, there were to be chutney sandwiches, skewers of grilled chicken, mutton cutlets, dhokla and chocolate fudge.

Suddenly she heard a growl, it was coming from her stomach, all that talk of food was making her hungry “ Ammmmaaaa” she called.

After quickly gulping down her chocolate milk and wolfing down a couple of idlis she went to investigate what her father was upto. She found him upstairs, surrounded by shiny pink wrapping paper, he seemed busy. He also had a stack of crayons and colouring books with him. Into each pack went one book paired with a set of crayons then, they got wrapped and sealed with cello tape. “ACHA” called Ria, “What are you doing?” “I am wrapping the return gifts ofcourse”, he replied. “Return gifts, what are those, are they for me?” “No darling” said Dad “They are for your friends who are coming for the party tonight, something for them to remember you by long after the party is over”

Triiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnggggggggg!

“Oh that must be Amma with the cake” squealed Ria as she turned and raced down the stairs and sure enough it was, only you couldn’t see her face because it was hidden behind the most enormous cake. “Careful Ria or else you will trip me”, said Amma as she weaved her way to the dining table to put down the cake while Ria jumped up and down trying to take a peek into the box. “Oh please may I take a peek” she cried. “Ok, ok as long as you don’t touch it!” warned Amma. It was the most beautiful thing that Ria had ever set her eyes on, all her favourites Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, Tiger and even Owl; they were all sitting around and seemed to be having the most delicious time ever at a picnic! Sigh they certainly looked good enough to eat but she had to wait another 4 hours, 30 minutes and 20 seconds more for her first guest to arrive.

Finally it was time, she was in her frilly, fluffy white birthday frock, which swished and swooshed every time she moved. Amma insisted that she wear her new sandals too though she would much rather have padded about bare foot and finally came the tiny heart shaped matching hairclips. Everybody oohhed and aahhed to see her and suddenly cameras and cell phones were pulled out to take some pictures followed by more pictures, standing here and then there and everywhere. First with her father then with her mother, then both of them together then the grandparents one by one then together and finally one with the entire family, oh enough with the pictures thought Ria when all she wanted was for the party to start!

The first to arrive were the Funny Family, Mama Funny, Papa Funny and little Baby Funny who they called fun for short. “Happy Birthday Ria” sang the Funnies in chorus, Ria liked them, who wouldn’t, they made her laugh so much every time they visited. And she was sure they would bring her a really fun birthday present, which they did, it was a mini bowling alley with 10 pins in different colours and 2 balls in a bright red and blue.

Next to arrive were the Talk-a-Lots, “Happy Birthday Ria” said Mamma Talk a Lot, “How are you? Oh you must be excited, I am too, parties are so much fun and look at all the decorations, they are so pretty…” And many more things but Ria lost track after a while because Papa Talk-a-Lot was talking at the same time asking her how she was and whether she was excited, blah blah blah! And baby talk-a-lot was really small and hadn’t learnt how to talk as yet so he just gave little shrieks of glee now and again.

Soon after came Mr and Ms. Bright, they didn’t have any kids as yet but they asked her all kinds of intelligent questions and quizzed her about her alphabets and numbers and just from the shape of the gift she knew she was getting books as a present which was nice coz she liked to read too.

The last ones to arrive, fashionably late some would say, were the Fashionable Family, dressed in a crisp, impeccably tailored suit Mr. Fashionable looked dapper as always and Mama Fashionable looked pretty and elegant in her pale yellow dress and Baby Fashionable was dressed in what else but haute couture Pink! Take a guess on what they got for her, why a designer dress ofcourse.

At last it was time to cut her cake. Amma picked Ria up and placed her on the chair, because she was not tall enough as yet to reach the cake. “Make a wish Ria”, said Dad. So she screwed her eyes shut very tight and wished for, well it’s a secret because they say if you share your wish it won’t come true. At the same time she inhaled a big breath of air and blew it out with as much force as she could muster so that the candles blew out in just one breath. After the cake was cut everyone piled their plate with all the delicious treats and all the sound in the house was that of lips smacking, teeth chomping and no tongues wagging at all.

Today even Amma relaxed her only one piece of chocolate rule and allowed Ria to stuff herself with cake and sweets to her hearts content. Well, all good things must come to an end and so it was true for this party too. Waving their bye-byes and wishing Ria a wonderful year ahead all the guests left one by one. Ria was she was sad because her birthday celebrations were over and she had to wait for an entire year more to celebrate the next one and yet happy for she had had a wonderful time.

What is Happiness?

What is happiness?

This question has often perplexed me and I found myself mulling over it a little more than usual over the past couple of days.

Ok, let’s start with a list of things that make me happy. First and foremost comes my daughter and I am not just saying that to be politically correct but watching her grow, spending time with her and just marvelling at my own creation  brings me joy untold; it’s a genuine feeling that fills me up from inside and makes my heart want to just burst.

My next source of happiness comes from work that makes me feel productive. When I pull off an event successfully, conduct a training program that lands me excellent feedback, see something I wrote in print or even get my guests to rave about the food I cooked for a party it gives me a real high. All the effort, the slogging, it all seems worth it after that bit of appreciation.

Love makes me happy! I was brought up in a close knit family and I grew up close not just to my parents, by the way I am an only child, but also to my grandparents and the extended family even though we always lived as a nuclear family. When I got married I was certain I would want not just my husband’s love but also that of his family. Loving others makes me happy too so the fact that I have a warm relationship with not just my side of the family now but also his seems to release some happiness hormone in me!

Having my own money makes me happy! I grew up appreciating the value of money, we never wanted for anything but ours was an ordinary life where treats like eating out were few and far in between. My Mother was a housewife who always wanted her daughter to have a successful career. She was the most powerful influence in my life and I was left rudderless when I lost her- I was just twenty. In direct contradiction to her hopes for me to have a successful career came also her imploring me not to become one of “those women” who left her children to be looked after by someone else. I probably never thought about the contradiction then and now when I would like to know more it’s too late she is not giving me any answers. Coming back however the pleasure of earning, saving and spending one’s own money that’s definitely linked to happiness. Now comes the question ‘How much money?’ How much is ever enough? When I had a full time well-paying job I compared myself to my peers who passed out of the same Business School and felt under paid – NOT HAPPY! Then I started working part time and had to take a 50% pay cut along with the cut in hours, that made me – UNHAPPY. Finally I quit that job and started freelancing which meant that assignments are sometimes hard to come by and that certainly doesn’t make me happy.

So in life at every point of time there seems to be something to be happy about and something to be unhappy about. Right now I am in a phase where I get to do the Number 1 thing that makes me happy – spend time with my daughter which means I do a little less of the other things on the list which inevitably makes me slightly unhappy. So I guess all of us have to ride that see-saw through life with one leg on either side trying to balance between being able to do the things that make us happy and others that don’t. So here is CHEERS to not tipping over or at least picking yourself up and getting back on that ride called life if you do!

The Boy who didn't like to Bathe

Gandhu Bandhu never liked to bathe.

Every time his mother yelled “It’s time for your bath Gandhu”

Gandhu ran.

And when Gandhu ran, his mother chased after him.

He ran over the bed and under tables, around chairs and in between lamps.

At first, his mother would be close behind his heels, she would stretch her hands and almost catch a bit of his shirt or a clump of his hair, then Gandhu ran faster and Amma got slower, till finally Gandhu escaped with a triumphant cry of victory.

Sometimes Amma tried something new, like lying in wait for Gandhu and pouncing on him when he least expected it.

At other times she tried to offer him sweets or bribes to make him have a bath.

If all failed, she scolded him or warned him about the wrath of his father to see him unbathed.

Mostly nothing worked. Gandhu merrily evaded all his mother’s ingenious efforts to entrap him.

Finally on the 23^rd of March it had been 12 days since Gandhu had his last bath.

A ripe odour clung to Gandhu, announcing his arrival wherever he went. Gandhu, fortunately or unfortunately, had a blocked nose so he couldn’t smell a thing and if anyone complained he went to Amma’s dressing table and sprayed on a liberal puff of her perfume.

But what Gandhu hadn’t realised is that along with the sharp odour, slowly this skin was disappearing under a thick layer of dirt. There was the mud from after playing football, a bit of the curry that had spilled from many lunches and dinners, some paint from that picture he had so beautifully painted.

So on the twelfth day of not bathing when he went to his Amma and asked her for lunch all she said was “Go home boy and ask your mother for food”. “Amma, YOU are my mother” said Gandhu but Amma just gave him a puzzled look, crinkled up her nose and walked off.

Then he went to his Grandpa in the garden and said, “Appu can you push me in the swing” and Appu said, “Who are you? This swing is only for residents of this building”. Appu was a retired Naval Officer and very strict about order and discipline so Gandhu didn’t want to risk asking him to peel off the dirt to reveal himself.

Gandhu was feeling sad now so he turned to the one person he know could cheer him up “Ammuma please tell me a story” he said to his grandmother. To his utter dismay she replied, “Little child who are you? Are you lost?”

Now in total despair Gandhu went running to his Dad who was just walking in from office, “Dad you recognize me don’t you, this is your son Gandhu.” Dad too crinkled up his nose and gave him a quizzical look. Gandhu? Is that you? Well it sounds like you but it doesn’t look like you. I can barely see your nose, or your eyes or your ears or anything at all actually.

“Dad what should I do? No one recognizes me, not even Ammuma.”

Dad thought for a while “Well there is one solution”

“Tell me, tell me” said Gandhu as he jumped up and down in a mixture of fear and excitement.

“We could try giving you a bath, but an ordinary bath just won’t work anymore. We will have to soak you for a bit in hot water and soap and then scrub you with a really big brush and end it with five minutes under the shower until we are absolutely sure that all the dirt is washed away”

“I only hope the skin doesn’t get washed away too” mumbled Dad as an afterthought

What followed was a lot of soaking, scrubbing, polishing and drying. Let me tell you it wasn’t the most enjoyable experience and a lot worse than if he had just had 12 baths in 12 days.

So the next time Amma said “It’s time for your bath Gandhu”

Gandhu said “Ok, Amma but I want my water pistols along” but that’s another story.