Musings

1. This issue of Thoughtful Thursdays has only one entry from Suman of Thoughts Unlimited. The book reviewed is Family Matters By Rohinton Mistry. Hop over here for her review. I apologize for not having been able to get to this owing to a busier than normal work schedule. I hope to get to it before our next edition for which we will be doing Three cups of tea due first Thursday in October (October 2nd).

2. Thank you all for the outpouring of wishes to K on his Birthday yesterday. He and I were both overwhelmed I will eventually get to responding to the wishes separately but wanted to say Thanks!

3. I am on vacation starting today visiting the lovely A-Kay and other friends of mine. I will be back after a LONG break on Sept 15th. Might sneak in a post midway but if I don’t, you all know why

Take care. Be good and check back in a week.

** Mush Alert!

Yes. K is a year older. In the grand scheme of things, this is just a blip but considering my universe is largely inhabited by K, it is a huge deal

Birthdays make me anxious. I wonder about what gifts to buy from months ahead. I plan and plot in my head till D-Day and most years, do nothing at all. Like this year. How do you celebrate the birthday of someone who is your world? Cakes and gifts don’t seem to cut it. I sat in front of the computer my mind blank. I had no clue of what to say. Tongue-tied. If such a term exists for virtual wishes.

I realized it this morning. For years, I have wanted to celebrate his birthday as I wanted mine celebrated. It always fell short. As I started thinking of what he would want, the answer is stunning in its simplicity. Actually nothing at all. Just knowing he is loved and thought of with warmth is the best gift I can give him.

So K, I want you to know you are loved unconditionally. Even when you are rolling your eyes in disbelief at how I could put the cutting board away before it is sparking clean. I want you to know that I will be at your side when you need me. Whether it is for emotional strength or the actual physical presence. I want you to know that your birthdays are special to me for just by being born, you have changed my life immeasurably.

Happy Birthday my love! You are my world.

“Brevity is the soul of wit” said Polonious in Hamlet.

The reason I am waxing eloquent this morning is that the phone rang at the unearthly hour of 4:30 AM penetrating the layers of sleep I lay blissfully under. Realizing the phone was ringing, in the few seconds that it took me to reach the phone, I wondered who on earth would call at the ungodly hour. Then looking at the India number, my mind went beserk with possibilities. Grabbing the phone, I croaked “Hello”. A cheerful voice rang out from the other end. My FIL. Are you asleep? He queried. I blinked twice before comprehending what was asked. Yes I said. It is 4:30 AM. “Is K asleep too?” he asked. Not knowing where this was leading to, I thrust the phone in to the hands of the still sleeping K and whispered “Appa” to him before I slipped back under the covers to glorious depths.

At 9:00 AM when I was clearly awake, the whole incident came back to me. I was reminded of the times when the phone was a luxury. Not all homes had a phone. The hallmark of a good phone “receiver” was brevity and speed. For words cost money. My paati often remarked “Lakshmi kitta phone a kudu. Ratna surukkama pesitu veppa.” No higher praise was needed. It meant “Hand over the phone to Lakshmi. She knows how to finish a conversation quick.”

A decade back when I was doing my undergraduate studies in Coimbatore living with my grandparents and aunt, we relied on our neighbour for “important” calls. They owned a phone and were gracious enough to let us use it to receive calls from family all over India. My mom plagued by worries about a daughter far from home often called. The daughters of the said neighbour would call across the street. “Lakshmi akka. Phone!!”. I would drop whatever it was I was doing and rush. My mom would have hung up and I would sit politely in their impeccably clean living room on the edge of their embroidered sofa cushions, totally ill at ease waiting for the phone to ring again. Conversation over, I would linger to talk to G Auntie and enquire about their children. The rigmarole would happen every weekend. Looking back, I am totally indebted to them for their willingness to let random strangers into their home.

Years later, when I now own not one but two phones and one pays a fixed amount irrespective of the number of calls or minutes each month, brevity has all but disappeared. I call people because I am bored. Not because I have something of importance to convey. I call because I need a vent and I call because I am lazy to sit and type an email or write a letter.

Occasionally I sit and wonder (like today) about the good old days of rushed conversations and cognizance of the time and money of the other person. When brevity was the hallmark of a good conversation over phone.

K and I drove with a friend to visit a colleague who was in the hospital after something he ate did not agree with him. While the details of what exactly is wrong with him are murky, seeing him pale and tired in the hospital bed drove home the point how much we take our bodies for granted. For someone who has way too many hospital visits to her credit, it hits me each time it happens. Watching a loved one suffer or seeing someone I know in pain makes me ache.

Each time I go home after a hospital visit I can’t help but imagine what must go through in the minds of the people around. Like in this case his parents back home in India. Worrying and struggling with the knowledge that their son is not well and there is nothing they can do to help. The anxiety and the helplessness of it all. Whether it is a parent not well in India or the child away from home, the pain is terrible.

In some sense it is a wake up call to not ignore our bodies. A jolt to my complacent nature. Each time I grin sheepishly when my doctor tells me to lose weight I forget it will be no laughing matter when I struggle to climb the stairs or hike up a steep trail.

A rather serious way to end the weekend but I hope all of you out there are being kind to your selves.

A few minutes back, K forwarded an email containing baby pictures from a common friend. I looked at the pictures, duly wrote a response and realized I was annoyed. Before anyone jumps to conclusions, I was annoyed because the friend in question really was my ex-colleague. I was miffed that I was not copied on that email.

I have probably ranted enough about this earlier but had to get it off my chest.Why is it at least in the circles I move that men tend to talk only to men and women to women? I understand there is an underlying comfort feel in relating that way but it does bother me when the person in question is or was someone I knew first.

“If you want something, you have to fight for it!” my FIL stated emphatically. No. It was not in the context of something inspirational yet it turned out to be one for me. He was speaking of the red-tapism and the attendant struggles in getting anything done in Bangalore. Am sure it is true of most of our home towns. In this case he was particularly frustrated by the constant rise in his cell bill and charges tacked on for things he did not use. I had to fight to get it taken off the bill he said. He concluded grandly saying “K and L, if you want something, you have to fight for it.”

With something as profound as this on my mind, I went to sleep and woke up with a sense of realization. My father in law is in many ways similar to my father in his ability to get me thinking and inspiring respect for what he does. Both of them were polar opposites. That’s what I thought. My father hated confrontation. He would go out of his way to settle things by negotiation. Never a raised voice if he could help it. Compromise and negotiation were his hall marks. On the other hand, my FIL is a vocal person. He lets the person on the other side of the argument really have it. He does this with so much conviction that sometimes the other person gives up even if they are right! If you want someone on your side for support and strength, my FIL is the person to go to. He was too, in his extended neighborhood and very proud of his role as guardian. Behind his ferocious nature however is a heart of gold. He cares, really cares for people and issues around him. He is the kind of person who would stop by if there is an accident in front of him and remove his shirt to staunch the flow of blood. The kind of person who would carry peanuts and biscuits on temple trips and such just in case we ran into birds or monkeys we could feed.

Well! the point I was trying to get at is that even though my father and FIL were polar opposites they shared this trait of going after something with  tenacity. Their approaches were different but the end result same. As I lay thinking about my FIL’s comment, I was reminded of my father. Of his quiet pursuit of his dreams. Never discussed, yet his eyes shining with happiness at the odd success here and there. There is so much I take after my father and yet I lack something fundamental. I hate confrontation. Absolutely. I would rather pay the extra amount of the bill if I had to fight to have it taken off. I aim big and in most cases lack the tenacity to hang on and see something to completion.

My FIL with his innocent comment has really made me think. Of how much I want to succeed at what I set my mind to. The solution is right there staring at my face. If I want it. I have to fight for it.

Simple no?

In all an eventful weekend with family at home. Its been a long time since all of us got together. It was fun to see the kids interact with each other. What amazed me is how much of the person’s personality is clearly evidenced even as a child. Both my nieces were as different as night and day. Each unique and distinct. A very learning couple of days.

On a different note, it was everything a get-together should be. Plenty of food, last minute plan changes and tons of sitting around and catching up. We indulged in window shopping, haircuts at a salon and ice creams at this farm.

More when I am recovered enough from the weekend. Happy Monday y’all!

Oh, the more we get together,
Together, together,
Oh, the more we get together,
The happier we’ll be.

For your friends are my friends,
And my friends are your friends.
Oh, the more we get together,
The happier we’ll be!

As I sit working from home, I hear squeals of laughter coming from the basement where the Vs are blissfully keeping each other engaged. I reflect on the evening and morning past and I couldn’t help admiring how this nursery rhyme rings true.

As V and I sat flipping through the pages of my photo albums, we kept getting pulled back into nostalgic memories. I could show her pictures of my friends on Orkut and she could relate and say “Wow! she looks the same or she is so different now!”. I ask her about her friends and relate to the path their lives have taken. Or sometimes look at a picture and both go “Remember when that was taken?”. Or do a comparison of the people we were and are now and know exactly what the other is thinking.

Definitely makes a case for getting together more often and preserving those shared memories.

For the past couple of days, this is all I can think of. The V’s are coming! V and V are my cousin and her daughter and they are visiting us for a week. After a longest time I will be having company at home that involves (hopefully) a lot of arratai sessions and general catching up. Considering we grew up together she has a special place in my heart.

So, while I eagerly waited for today to come, the past two days has seen a lot of activity around the home. Cleaning, dusting and generally getting the guest room ready. Right till K and I left for work this morning we had something or the other to do. All this brought back loads of memories from the past. Waiting for cousins to come home for vacation. Waiting to hear the sound of auto at the door. The clicking of the door latch and the eager welcomes from both sides. Running off to show new clothes, accessories and more. Catching up on school, secrets and the non stop chat sessions.

Visits from family invariably meant “bakshanam” in our home. Either mom making it in honor of the people visiting or the guest bringing some specially for us. If they came from Coimbatore it was A1 chips and if from Trichy it was “dood peda”. Both of which I loved immensely. As I mulled baking a cake or making some sweet today morning, I decided against it and put it away for later. I couldn’t help realizing how little we change and how much we change.

Life is sweet!

Over the past few years in my interactions with my friends who reside on the west coast of the US, I have wondered at some things. Not sure if it is just the US or it is equally true of urban vs suburban living worldwide. It may sound stereotypical or way too general but here are my thoughts for what they are worth.

Awareness about ecological footprint, going green, buying organic, buying local etc tends to run rampant among west-coasters. On the other hand, I see little evidence of it in my local circle here. Even if my friends here have strong views about these things, I hardly hear about it. Same thing with Walmart bashing. I label it Walmart bashing as I personally like Walmart. I have heard about their hiring practices, their working hours, their benefits etc. Yet, I believe they are picked apart more often because they are huge and they are successful. Again, these are just my views.

I noticed it again with hybrid cars. Long before I even heard there exists a thing like a hybrid car, family I know in the west coast had been using it for a year. Cloth diapers, returning to a more simplistic way of life. All of it seems to happen along the west coast before the east catches on.

So, what do you think? Is is a west coast thing or something different?