This is a piece that I wrote some 4 years back and it is special because it was my first published work. It was published in Woman's Era in 2005. It was saved in my computer and I was looking for something else and this one popped up. The kids in the story are my brother's daughters who have now grown up into responsible young girls with the older one doing her Dentistry in Coimbatore and the younger one planning to follow her soon. They are both trained in Bharatanatyam and re reading this piece makes me wish to go back in time and enjoy the days when they were kids in their pre - teens. i dedicate this post to their bright future.
As a fresh graduate I often entertained my younger siblings and their friends to a story session whenever there was a power cut in the locality. We would light a candle and form a circle around it and I would narrate to them stories selected from a wide and variable range. I was an avid reader so there was never a dearth of good fiction. These stories would be narrated with such fervor that my young wide-eyed audience would laugh or weep as the situation demanded. The hero, the villain, the step- mother, and all other characters in the story were real people and were critically analyzed during dinner -time. They would go on to suggest a different conclusion or a better treatment of the plot and feel thrilled when their idea was accepted. Those were days before the television made its entry into rural homes and this was a means of healthy entertainment.
My own children never came to me for stories. My father in law was a well-read man and he took charge of supervising their study time and home work each evening and would reward them with a story while I prepared dinner. The children looked forward to their story time and since it was conditional and subject to their finishing the given assignments, their studies were also simultaneously taken care of. For this purpose he would religiously read children’s fiction and fairy tales while I took it easy and thanked god for small mercies.
My earlier success as a story -teller encouraged me to try the same with the next generation and not realizing their potential I offered to tell them a story. The next generation comprised of my brother’s daughters Shruti and Shweta who were smart young girls studying in the primary section of a reputed school in Mumbai. They belonged to the digital age and had grown up watching TV! The story was from a movie I had watched as a schoolgirl and was the vernacular version of an English movie The parent trap. It was also one that I had earlier narrated to my younger brothers including the father of the two girls.
“A long time ago there were two sisters who were twins” I began.
“But how can sisters be TWINS?” Shweta asked.
“Be quiet! She means twin sisters.” Shruti the older one explained. I could not understand the difference however much I tried. Anyway I was grateful for her timely help and continued the story. “The older one was called….”
“But aunty you said they were twins” this was Shruti.
“She was older by a few minutes” I explained.
“By how many minutes?” interrupted Shweta.
“May be ten or twelve” I replied. “The sisters were called Lalli and Pappi.”
“I don’t like their names. They’re too old fashioned. I’ll suggest new names for them,” said Shruti.
“Me too” said Shweta.
After this I lost track of who was saying what. I just sat through the discussion that followed.
“I’ll call them Riya and Rini”
“Never ever! They’ll be called Anu and Vinu”
“Those are not real names. They’re only nicknames. Any way they sound stupid”
“They sound stupid to you because you’re stupid”
“Aunty! She’s calling me names”
“You started it silly!”
“Why don’t you get lost?”
“Why not YOU? You’re not wanted here any way.”
“Who are you to say it? This is my house and I’ll stay here as much as I want and as long as I wish to.”
“This is daddy’s house not yours”.
The debate continued for what seemed to me an eternity.
I felt lost and inept to arbitrate. My head started reeling and I had to call for their mother’s intervention. My own children had grown up and I had lost touch with children in their pre – teens. The mother knew exactly how to tackle them. She made them suggest a name each and solved their dispute in a minute. I felt like a fool.
The naming ceremony was over but I had no energy to continue. I seemed to have forgotten half the story and needed a cup of coffee to revive my spirits. I did not have the heart to let the children down so I continued with the story. I tried to impress upon them the efforts taken by the children in the story to bring their estranged parents together. The story did not seem to provoke emotions and perhaps the plot, to their minds, sounded outdated. This was a generation of SUPERMEN and SPIDERMEN and the world could be accessed at the press of a button. They may not have found the escapades of characters in the story interesting. I felt a little dejected over my failure as a storyteller. I left home to visit a friend planning to give up story telling for life. After a pleasant evening, spent at my friend’s place recalling our childhood days, I returned home at ten in the evening. To my greatest surprise the two little girls were waiting for me in the front room waiting to hear the next story! They had invited their cousin to sleep over and their beaming father told me that the girls were superb narrators and had since afternoon kept their friends entertained with a modified modern version of my story without destroying its essence. They had animated discussions about the plot and characters, found alternative methods to deal with the villain of the story. Their heroine for instance abandoned the old-fashioned post office route and communicated via e-mail and the villain did not bother to threaten the postman or snatch letters from the servant. He simply hacked passwords and deleted mails. My brothers who had a pleasant reminder of yester years joined their children to listen to yet another of my stories!
The experience however was an eye opener. Children would remain children and they had enjoyed the experience. I had worried in vain. I am now a grandmother and soon my grand daughter will be asking me for bedtime stories. Keeping pace with changing times I’ve asked Shruti and Shweta to update me with stories that the new additions to the family would prefer!
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The 'other woman'
Of late I’ve been hearing a lot about the ‘other woman’ in a man’s life. A court verdict has ruled that a man’s second wife/partner is entitled to property rights just like his first wife and if I am not mistaken this applies to a live in relationship as well. I don’t want to go into the legalities of such an arrangement or argue whether such a verdict would or would not act as deterrent to the not so serious flings that men and women tend to have without the commitment that is called marriage. I merely wish to analyze whether it is okay to paint the mistress/second wife black and call her names just because she involved herself knowingly or unknowingly with a married man? Is there perhaps another side to the story? I know it is easy for me to offer my opinion having never faced such a situation but a few cases known to me make me wonder what went wrong and also if those of us who pass judgment are overlooking the trauma faced by the so called ‘other woman’.
As an undergrad student studying in Trichy some years back when I had neither age nor maturity I remember announcing that if my husband ever had an affair, I’d let him go and have nothing to do with him. There was no point, I argued, in continuing my relationship with a cheating husband. I’d show him the door……. We were actually analyzing the situation in a hit movie and our sympathies naturally lay with the unsuspecting, god like heroine who sang soulful songs to express her agony. She finally forgave the errant husband and the other woman was suitably punished.
My friend agreed heartily but added that she’d show him the door too but only after making life hell for him and his mistress. Others too agreed but suggested punishments like rolling him down the stairs, scooping out his eyeballs etc. etc.
But movies are movies and real life stories are different.
Take for instance the case of Veena (name changed) that took place 40 years back around the time we had the above mentioned argument. She was working in a multinational company and fell in love with her married boss and could do nothing about it. She married him against the advice of well wishers. Her parents in law sided with the first wife and the couple moved to the middle-east. She felt guilty about having wronged the first wife and decided not to have children of her own. Unfortunately her husband died. She continued to support his family-got his daughter married and educated his son. Now with the parents in law passing away, the two women live together and the children love her, if not more at least as much as they love their natural mother. Veena was related to me by marriage and I may be biased in my opinion of her. But I find it equally difficult to be harsh on D…….. who I know only from a distance.
D……. was at the receiving end of life’s blows. Her husband was an irresponsible sadist who troubled and tortured her day in and day out. She found solace in the company of a family friend and finally walked out of her marriage and married him who agreed to look after her daughters as well. She was of course highly criticized and I am afraid I too agreed to the view that walking out of an abusive marriage was one thing but marrying an already married man and disturbing his family life was quite another thing . I agree, hers was a marriage of convenience. I noticed that she had to be fiercely protective of her daughters and could not trust them to remain alone with the step father. Nothing in her life was easy. She educated her daughters, got them married and looked after their children while they went to work. She never for a moment kept them under the illusion that her husband was going to support them, the way a natural father would. There was an invisible line drawn and the girls rose to her expectations. It is not easy for grown up girls to support their mother under the circumstances but they did. She is no more and her husband has gone now back to his first family. The girls are happy attending to one another’s needs. They hardly have anything to do with their step father.
I sometimes wonder if she was happy with her choice. Wagging tongues and prying eyes notwithstanding, she perhaps wanted some protection from her first husband both for herself and her daughters. But even after marrying someone known to her she had to worry about their safety and could not bring herself to trust him. Somehow I am not as critical of her as before. One does not know the circumstances that led to her decision.
What are the circumstances that lead to extra marital relationships I wonder? We see highly educated qualified women agreeing to marry men who are already married and never accord them the same respect that they give their first wives. AG married D soon after her graduation. Her father sensed that all was not well and encouraged her to do her Masters and later to appear for the National Eligibility Test for lectureship. Educating girls and encouraging them to work was unheard of in her family. She realized that her husband was having an affair with a divorcee and walked out of the marriage with her children and took up a job in a new town. Today the second wife is insecure and keeps calling her to know the whereabouts of the husband! And despite the misery she caused, AG is inwardly sympathetic towards her. For all you know the man may be having an affair with a third woman, she says.
I can go on and on. It is easy for one to sympathize with the wronged woman. She deserves all the support that can be given to her. But what about the ‘other woman’?
She is neither respected nor supported. Her needs could have been emotional but who cares for her emotions? She is a home breaker and that’s it. Does anyone ever stop to think of the insecurity she may be experiencing? No one seems to criticize the man who abandons his first wife for whatever reason.
‘Men are like that only’ is the famous refrain. Either the first wife was not smart enough or the second wily, crafty and what not. No one seems to think that both of them cared enough for each other and were willing to face the outcome by marrying against all odds.
I hope I am not giving you the impression that I endorse extra marital affairs. Far from it I feel that in the unfortunate event of falling in love with an already married person, one should insist on proper divorce proceedings. Again I say that it is easy for me to sympathize with the women, having never faced the situation myself. Those who have, know the sorrow that inevitably follows and the sense of inadequacy that one feels for having let one’s husband go. This is not a black and white situation and there are several shades of grey that fall in between.
As an undergrad student studying in Trichy some years back when I had neither age nor maturity I remember announcing that if my husband ever had an affair, I’d let him go and have nothing to do with him. There was no point, I argued, in continuing my relationship with a cheating husband. I’d show him the door……. We were actually analyzing the situation in a hit movie and our sympathies naturally lay with the unsuspecting, god like heroine who sang soulful songs to express her agony. She finally forgave the errant husband and the other woman was suitably punished.
My friend agreed heartily but added that she’d show him the door too but only after making life hell for him and his mistress. Others too agreed but suggested punishments like rolling him down the stairs, scooping out his eyeballs etc. etc.
But movies are movies and real life stories are different.
Take for instance the case of Veena (name changed) that took place 40 years back around the time we had the above mentioned argument. She was working in a multinational company and fell in love with her married boss and could do nothing about it. She married him against the advice of well wishers. Her parents in law sided with the first wife and the couple moved to the middle-east. She felt guilty about having wronged the first wife and decided not to have children of her own. Unfortunately her husband died. She continued to support his family-got his daughter married and educated his son. Now with the parents in law passing away, the two women live together and the children love her, if not more at least as much as they love their natural mother. Veena was related to me by marriage and I may be biased in my opinion of her. But I find it equally difficult to be harsh on D…….. who I know only from a distance.
D……. was at the receiving end of life’s blows. Her husband was an irresponsible sadist who troubled and tortured her day in and day out. She found solace in the company of a family friend and finally walked out of her marriage and married him who agreed to look after her daughters as well. She was of course highly criticized and I am afraid I too agreed to the view that walking out of an abusive marriage was one thing but marrying an already married man and disturbing his family life was quite another thing . I agree, hers was a marriage of convenience. I noticed that she had to be fiercely protective of her daughters and could not trust them to remain alone with the step father. Nothing in her life was easy. She educated her daughters, got them married and looked after their children while they went to work. She never for a moment kept them under the illusion that her husband was going to support them, the way a natural father would. There was an invisible line drawn and the girls rose to her expectations. It is not easy for grown up girls to support their mother under the circumstances but they did. She is no more and her husband has gone now back to his first family. The girls are happy attending to one another’s needs. They hardly have anything to do with their step father.
I sometimes wonder if she was happy with her choice. Wagging tongues and prying eyes notwithstanding, she perhaps wanted some protection from her first husband both for herself and her daughters. But even after marrying someone known to her she had to worry about their safety and could not bring herself to trust him. Somehow I am not as critical of her as before. One does not know the circumstances that led to her decision.
What are the circumstances that lead to extra marital relationships I wonder? We see highly educated qualified women agreeing to marry men who are already married and never accord them the same respect that they give their first wives. AG married D soon after her graduation. Her father sensed that all was not well and encouraged her to do her Masters and later to appear for the National Eligibility Test for lectureship. Educating girls and encouraging them to work was unheard of in her family. She realized that her husband was having an affair with a divorcee and walked out of the marriage with her children and took up a job in a new town. Today the second wife is insecure and keeps calling her to know the whereabouts of the husband! And despite the misery she caused, AG is inwardly sympathetic towards her. For all you know the man may be having an affair with a third woman, she says.
I can go on and on. It is easy for one to sympathize with the wronged woman. She deserves all the support that can be given to her. But what about the ‘other woman’?
She is neither respected nor supported. Her needs could have been emotional but who cares for her emotions? She is a home breaker and that’s it. Does anyone ever stop to think of the insecurity she may be experiencing? No one seems to criticize the man who abandons his first wife for whatever reason.
‘Men are like that only’ is the famous refrain. Either the first wife was not smart enough or the second wily, crafty and what not. No one seems to think that both of them cared enough for each other and were willing to face the outcome by marrying against all odds.
I hope I am not giving you the impression that I endorse extra marital affairs. Far from it I feel that in the unfortunate event of falling in love with an already married person, one should insist on proper divorce proceedings. Again I say that it is easy for me to sympathize with the women, having never faced the situation myself. Those who have, know the sorrow that inevitably follows and the sense of inadequacy that one feels for having let one’s husband go. This is not a black and white situation and there are several shades of grey that fall in between.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Gup Shap again
I know it is late but Happy Diwali all the same. I hope you all had a nice and safe Deepavali.I reached home just a day before Deepavali so we made it very, very
simple.
It has been a long time since I posted anything on my blog. I think I am going through one of those lethargic phases when one just does not feel like doing anything. The trip to the south was exhausting and made me pledge never to fit in so much of travel in future trips. Considering the accident prone world we live in I am glad to have returned to my niche in a single piece. In Karnataka it appeared as if the rains followed us giving us just enough time to leave a place before creating havoc there. Unfortunately we were unable to enjoy the natural beauty of the western ghats since we were holed up in a hotel room most of the time.
I had high hopes of meeting Suranga, Usha, Aarthi, Srijith and Riti during this trip. Lack of communication was the only reason for missing out Suranga and Srijith who live within walking distance of the place I was staying in Mumbai and Chennai. As for Srijith I felt lousy staring at an apartment complex near Balaiyya garden bus stop and wondering whether he actually lived there. I must have crossed the place at least twice a day but I did not have his phone number and I was being punished for my laid back attitude. Sorry folks, there will be a next time and that is a promise
Coming back to Jamshedpur feels good. Where else can one leave home at 10:15 AM and reach one’s workplace before 10:30 AM? Where else can one go on long winding walks for an hour and return all set and fresh to take on another day? I can hear my brothers and sister both natural and by marriage call me a ‘pattikkadu’ (villager) unaccustomed to smart city ways. True, we all get used to a particular life style and claim it to be the best. Every time I meet my folk I am under a kind of dilemma as to whether I should continue in Jamshepur after retirement or move out to Chennai, Bangalore or Mumbai. But city life baffles me and finally I decide that our good old Jampot is the best place for an ageing couple to spend the final lap of their life on earth.
Post retirement I need to take up an assignment and absent myself for at least 5 hours each day. Or else my husband is going to drive me nuts and I’ll be churning out sob stories in my blog. I had copied out a piece on ‘Golden Retirement’ 3 years back and like the lady who authored the piece I think I am going to have him velcroed to my hips if I dared to stay home. Can you imagine the areas in which he awaits my response are?
I’d have returned from college and would be relaxing in my bedroom with a magazine in hand.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Okay.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Please do. And take the keys with you. I may doze off to sleep
HIM: What did you say?
I ignore the question. He has almost reached the door and comes back just to ask if I had said something. I could not have asked for a cuter husband but I really wish he could just go and get the milk instead of waiting for my approval in matters that don’t matter at all.
Jokes apart, I don’t blame him. There was a time when we had to worry about so many things. A child’s admission, hostel bills, father in law’s health concerns etc. etc. There now seems to be a sudden void in our lives. That brings home another realization. When a person has nothing to look forward to, one’s life becomes monotonous and boring. That is exactly why his concern touches my heart.
Did you take your medicines?
It is getting cold. Why not wear a half sweater?
I am drawing out my quarterly interest from the post office. Shall I deposit a part of it in your account?
The questions continue and they are important because they sustain us. The phone rings and I pick it up.
He appears at the door.
Who? He gestures.
My friend. I reply.
He goes off nodding his head.
To those of you leading a busy life these things may not matter. May be not yet. But to us it reiterates the fact that we need to remain fit and well if not for ourselves at least for the other person. We have made ourselves so very interdependent that very often he says something that I was just about to say. This brings to my mind another malaise that seems to have inflicted society of late - couples opting to separate in the twilight of their lives. I recently heard of a person known to me with grown up and married children opting out of marriage. They may or may not go for a divorce but they certainly prefer to lead separate lives. Each one says that the other is free to come and stay with him/her but on his/her terms and conditions. When I discuss this with friends they say that people are more honest these days. Why put up with an arrangement that is no longer agreeable? There is some logic in this argument but is this the right solution? Like one says that children earlier put up with their parents since their common property generated the income that was required to support their families. It no longer holds in a society where parents see to it that children reach dizzy heights saying that their children should never go through the hardship they once faced. Parents too have set aside enough to lead an independent life post retirement. There is no question of anyone adjusting with the other person. But isn’t it taking things too far when a wife or husband refuses to be part of the other’s life at a time when there is an acute need for meaningful companionship? I’ve known children supporting the mother and abandoning their father. Perhaps they feel that a mother’s presence in their homes would be more useful to their working wives than their father’s who would do nothing but occupy the front room reading the day’s newspaper.
Be it as it may I still subscribe to the view that old age is meant to be spent together whatever be one’s differences in day to day life. As for me I cannot imagine life without the domineering presence of my old man so what if he bugs me with irrelevant questions all the time.
simple.
It has been a long time since I posted anything on my blog. I think I am going through one of those lethargic phases when one just does not feel like doing anything. The trip to the south was exhausting and made me pledge never to fit in so much of travel in future trips. Considering the accident prone world we live in I am glad to have returned to my niche in a single piece. In Karnataka it appeared as if the rains followed us giving us just enough time to leave a place before creating havoc there. Unfortunately we were unable to enjoy the natural beauty of the western ghats since we were holed up in a hotel room most of the time.
I had high hopes of meeting Suranga, Usha, Aarthi, Srijith and Riti during this trip. Lack of communication was the only reason for missing out Suranga and Srijith who live within walking distance of the place I was staying in Mumbai and Chennai. As for Srijith I felt lousy staring at an apartment complex near Balaiyya garden bus stop and wondering whether he actually lived there. I must have crossed the place at least twice a day but I did not have his phone number and I was being punished for my laid back attitude. Sorry folks, there will be a next time and that is a promise
Coming back to Jamshedpur feels good. Where else can one leave home at 10:15 AM and reach one’s workplace before 10:30 AM? Where else can one go on long winding walks for an hour and return all set and fresh to take on another day? I can hear my brothers and sister both natural and by marriage call me a ‘pattikkadu’ (villager) unaccustomed to smart city ways. True, we all get used to a particular life style and claim it to be the best. Every time I meet my folk I am under a kind of dilemma as to whether I should continue in Jamshepur after retirement or move out to Chennai, Bangalore or Mumbai. But city life baffles me and finally I decide that our good old Jampot is the best place for an ageing couple to spend the final lap of their life on earth.
Post retirement I need to take up an assignment and absent myself for at least 5 hours each day. Or else my husband is going to drive me nuts and I’ll be churning out sob stories in my blog. I had copied out a piece on ‘Golden Retirement’ 3 years back and like the lady who authored the piece I think I am going to have him velcroed to my hips if I dared to stay home. Can you imagine the areas in which he awaits my response are?
I’d have returned from college and would be relaxing in my bedroom with a magazine in hand.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Okay.
HIM: I am going for milk.
ME: Please do. And take the keys with you. I may doze off to sleep
HIM: What did you say?
I ignore the question. He has almost reached the door and comes back just to ask if I had said something. I could not have asked for a cuter husband but I really wish he could just go and get the milk instead of waiting for my approval in matters that don’t matter at all.
Jokes apart, I don’t blame him. There was a time when we had to worry about so many things. A child’s admission, hostel bills, father in law’s health concerns etc. etc. There now seems to be a sudden void in our lives. That brings home another realization. When a person has nothing to look forward to, one’s life becomes monotonous and boring. That is exactly why his concern touches my heart.
Did you take your medicines?
It is getting cold. Why not wear a half sweater?
I am drawing out my quarterly interest from the post office. Shall I deposit a part of it in your account?
The questions continue and they are important because they sustain us. The phone rings and I pick it up.
He appears at the door.
Who? He gestures.
My friend. I reply.
He goes off nodding his head.
To those of you leading a busy life these things may not matter. May be not yet. But to us it reiterates the fact that we need to remain fit and well if not for ourselves at least for the other person. We have made ourselves so very interdependent that very often he says something that I was just about to say. This brings to my mind another malaise that seems to have inflicted society of late - couples opting to separate in the twilight of their lives. I recently heard of a person known to me with grown up and married children opting out of marriage. They may or may not go for a divorce but they certainly prefer to lead separate lives. Each one says that the other is free to come and stay with him/her but on his/her terms and conditions. When I discuss this with friends they say that people are more honest these days. Why put up with an arrangement that is no longer agreeable? There is some logic in this argument but is this the right solution? Like one says that children earlier put up with their parents since their common property generated the income that was required to support their families. It no longer holds in a society where parents see to it that children reach dizzy heights saying that their children should never go through the hardship they once faced. Parents too have set aside enough to lead an independent life post retirement. There is no question of anyone adjusting with the other person. But isn’t it taking things too far when a wife or husband refuses to be part of the other’s life at a time when there is an acute need for meaningful companionship? I’ve known children supporting the mother and abandoning their father. Perhaps they feel that a mother’s presence in their homes would be more useful to their working wives than their father’s who would do nothing but occupy the front room reading the day’s newspaper.
Be it as it may I still subscribe to the view that old age is meant to be spent together whatever be one’s differences in day to day life. As for me I cannot imagine life without the domineering presence of my old man so what if he bugs me with irrelevant questions all the time.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Down the memory lane-2
Let me begin with wishes for a very happy Navarathri and Eid to all of you. Festivities being part of the Indian scene getting in and out of shops has been a tiring experience. Not that I am a great shopper but getting a hair band for my scanty hair took me nearly half an hour what with enthusiastic teenaged girls crowding the ladies corner picking out make up kits and accessories to deck themselves for the pujas. I found myself sorely missing my grand daughters who have just begun to understand what it means to own bangles and stuff. That reminds me. I happened to look at a photograph taken soon after I finished my 11th standard boards. I could hardly recognize the teenager looking back at me. She had worn danglers (Jhumkas) and a ‘mattal’ to support ear rings that would pass off for mini plates and a vertical line instead of the round bindi I normally sport these days. I really wonder if I was really that crazy and if I was indeed so when did my teenage enthusiasm die? Be that as it may Navarathri is the time when girls are given special treatment. For my part I did my bit for the girls mentioned in my previous post and escorted a handicapped friend Prema to visit a friend of hers whose husband is recuperating after a mild stroke that had him hospitalized for a week or so. And again the visit took me back to the days when I had just arrived at Jamshedpur and we all lived in the same locality. Prema’s family has done for me that which I need several more births to ever repay.
My mother in law was seriously ill and bed ridden. She was forbidden the intake of more than 5 gms of salt per day and her kidneys were failing. Being diabetic she would be constantly hungry and with 2 small children I’d be at wits end unable to cope with her demands for spicy (forbidden) food. Prema’s mother was a friend of my mother in law and the dear lady would say that since she cooked early for her husband who left for work at 8 in the morning I could come over to her place anytime to pick up stuff for my mother in law. I’d sometimes knock their door at 6.30 in the morning and come back with steaming hot food.
“V was not always like this” she’d say referring to my MIL. “It is her illness that is making her act strange. You think she’d eat all of it? She’ll probably just taste a bit of it for a change and refuse the rest. Don’t worry about anything. You can come over anytime.”
To her credit I must add that she never discussed all this with anyone nor did her children, Prema included, question the reason behind my early morning visits. In fact Prema doesn’t even remember any of it now. But I have not forgotten the favor. It was like having my mother close by. My mother in law was also completely at ease about my contact with the family. She knew that T mami (Prema’s mother) would never set me against her. There were times when I’d have a complaint or two against my MIL. Her advice would be the same.
“Don’t bother about her outbursts. She’ll cool down by the time you go back. Do you think she’d have spared P (my SIL)? She is one person who is the same within and without. You’ll soon understand.”
True, my MIL was like a pressure cooker releasing steam from time to time. One had to understand the soft interior behind the tough exterior and T mami helped me see it.
I don’t know why I am reminded of my younger days so much these days. I lost a dear cousin to cancer. She was younger to me by a year and the first leaf to fall from the branch that sprung from my mother’s side of the family tree. She is mourned among others by her 82 year old mother. She was in great pain and has perhaps found liberation in death. We shared a childhood together spending our vacations in Gobi at my grandfather’s place. Her mother was an inspiration to me with a balanced temperament and uncomplaining nature. Those were days when parents generally let children run wild during vacations – no special treatment or attention. Anyone who was free would feed the children and one would fall asleep on mats spread out in a common hall. I wonder why the current generation of young mothers are so protective about their children.
My child won’t eat this or that……….
My son is an angel he’d never start a quarrel…….
My son won’t get sleep unless the AC is on……..
When we were young and up to mischief, anyone including the servant could scold us and our mothers would go about their work as if nothing had happened. They interfered only if there was a danger of children hurting themselves during a quarrel and the maximum punishment inflicted would be to withdraw the culprit from the scene. Never mind who started the quarrel. But we were happy as long as we got to enjoy ourselves.
Is this over protective attitude due to the fact that we have smaller families and more time in hand, thanks to modern gadgets? Or is the affordability in terms of money and means having a negative impact on inter personal relationships? Does one feel the necessity to flaunt one’s status in life even to one’s own parents and siblings? I am only generalizing but there seems to a subtle change taking place in society and the next generation of children may perhaps tend to be more self centered and uncaring and this will not be good in a society where the divide between the rich and poor is increasing by the day.
To conclude, I may add that almost all festivals are celebrated to denote the triumph of good over evil. Different reasons are quoted for celebrating Navarathri. Devi Mahatmiyam says that even with the combined strength of all the gods and demi gods, it took a long drawn war before Shakthi won the battle against Mahishasur, a demon. Ram led a battle against Ravan and ultimately defeated him. Demons are vanquished and justice prevails is the message. Even Gods could not accomplish it in a day. Corruption, terrorism, caste differentiation, communalism, avarice, dowry menace, female feticide and unhealthy competition are some of the demons that damage our social structure. We may not be able to change the world. Why not begin with changing ourselves and inculcate the value of community life in our children? They need to be sensitized by parents and no time is better than the present time. Let us begin right away. Happy Navarathri!
My mother in law was seriously ill and bed ridden. She was forbidden the intake of more than 5 gms of salt per day and her kidneys were failing. Being diabetic she would be constantly hungry and with 2 small children I’d be at wits end unable to cope with her demands for spicy (forbidden) food. Prema’s mother was a friend of my mother in law and the dear lady would say that since she cooked early for her husband who left for work at 8 in the morning I could come over to her place anytime to pick up stuff for my mother in law. I’d sometimes knock their door at 6.30 in the morning and come back with steaming hot food.
“V was not always like this” she’d say referring to my MIL. “It is her illness that is making her act strange. You think she’d eat all of it? She’ll probably just taste a bit of it for a change and refuse the rest. Don’t worry about anything. You can come over anytime.”
To her credit I must add that she never discussed all this with anyone nor did her children, Prema included, question the reason behind my early morning visits. In fact Prema doesn’t even remember any of it now. But I have not forgotten the favor. It was like having my mother close by. My mother in law was also completely at ease about my contact with the family. She knew that T mami (Prema’s mother) would never set me against her. There were times when I’d have a complaint or two against my MIL. Her advice would be the same.
“Don’t bother about her outbursts. She’ll cool down by the time you go back. Do you think she’d have spared P (my SIL)? She is one person who is the same within and without. You’ll soon understand.”
True, my MIL was like a pressure cooker releasing steam from time to time. One had to understand the soft interior behind the tough exterior and T mami helped me see it.
I don’t know why I am reminded of my younger days so much these days. I lost a dear cousin to cancer. She was younger to me by a year and the first leaf to fall from the branch that sprung from my mother’s side of the family tree. She is mourned among others by her 82 year old mother. She was in great pain and has perhaps found liberation in death. We shared a childhood together spending our vacations in Gobi at my grandfather’s place. Her mother was an inspiration to me with a balanced temperament and uncomplaining nature. Those were days when parents generally let children run wild during vacations – no special treatment or attention. Anyone who was free would feed the children and one would fall asleep on mats spread out in a common hall. I wonder why the current generation of young mothers are so protective about their children.
My child won’t eat this or that……….
My son is an angel he’d never start a quarrel…….
My son won’t get sleep unless the AC is on……..
When we were young and up to mischief, anyone including the servant could scold us and our mothers would go about their work as if nothing had happened. They interfered only if there was a danger of children hurting themselves during a quarrel and the maximum punishment inflicted would be to withdraw the culprit from the scene. Never mind who started the quarrel. But we were happy as long as we got to enjoy ourselves.
Is this over protective attitude due to the fact that we have smaller families and more time in hand, thanks to modern gadgets? Or is the affordability in terms of money and means having a negative impact on inter personal relationships? Does one feel the necessity to flaunt one’s status in life even to one’s own parents and siblings? I am only generalizing but there seems to a subtle change taking place in society and the next generation of children may perhaps tend to be more self centered and uncaring and this will not be good in a society where the divide between the rich and poor is increasing by the day.
To conclude, I may add that almost all festivals are celebrated to denote the triumph of good over evil. Different reasons are quoted for celebrating Navarathri. Devi Mahatmiyam says that even with the combined strength of all the gods and demi gods, it took a long drawn war before Shakthi won the battle against Mahishasur, a demon. Ram led a battle against Ravan and ultimately defeated him. Demons are vanquished and justice prevails is the message. Even Gods could not accomplish it in a day. Corruption, terrorism, caste differentiation, communalism, avarice, dowry menace, female feticide and unhealthy competition are some of the demons that damage our social structure. We may not be able to change the world. Why not begin with changing ourselves and inculcate the value of community life in our children? They need to be sensitized by parents and no time is better than the present time. Let us begin right away. Happy Navarathri!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
dreams and more dreams.
Let me begin by wishing all of you a very happy festival season. A Happy Navarathri, Id-ul-fitr and in general a happy, pleasant time to all of you. I started writing something serious but retained it as a draft because I felt that this was not the time for it. Vacations have begun and we plan a trip to Shiridi, Mumbai and Shringeri. I hear that the Malabar coast is luxuriant after the rains and I've never been to Shringeri.
In this post I am generally going to share with you some eerie dreams I had. Sue had long back tagged me asking me to write about my dreams. Being the boring teacher that I am, I wrote out a long list of figurative dreams of how I wanted terrorism to be wiped out and other similar stuff befitting my age. She then told me that she meant real dreams and I had promised that I'd share them later so here I go.
Dream no.1 I was around 13 years of age and it was a Saturday morning. I was studying in a residential school and we were allowed an extra hour of sleep on saturdays and Sundays. I woke up sweating profusely. I had a dream that my dad was in hospital and he was on some life support system. There were all kinds of tubes and stuff and he was all skin and bones. I recognize him only by his voice. We, in the boarding school believed that Friday night's dreams come true but if it was a bad dream its effect could be neutalized if shared. I quickly woke my friends up and shared my dream. Unfortunately the dream did come true and in the months that followed the same dream recurred a few more times and 4 months later when I visited my father in hospital I was shocked to see everything exactly as it was in my dream. My dad, a 175 pounder had been reduced to a skeleton and some 6 months later he died. I had never seen the interior if a hospital room before so I cannot explain how I got such a vivid picture of the hospital scene.
Dreams no.2 Just before my marriage I had a dream that my dad had come with a suitcase and said that he planned to spend sometime with us. He continued to come in my dreams prior to my younger sister's and older brother's weddings. My younger brothers got married some 12 years after our weddings. I almost expected him to come in my dreams when the two younger brothers got married. But no, he didn't.
Dream no. 3. This again involves my dad. I had, by then, almost stopped expecting him to visit me in my dreams. It was more that 33 years since he passed away. I was advised bed rest following high blood pressure. My dad took me in my dream to Patna for an interview. He leaves me at the gate of the Secretariat and vanishes much to my annoyance. My name is called out and I try to go in when a little girl asks me if I was PR and when I answer in the affirmative she asks me to go back saying that I was not called. I insist saying that I had indeed been called but she does not let me in.
I wonder what dreams are? I've had my mother in law coming in my dreams soon after her death. My father in law's blood urea count shot up before his death and he developed blisters all over his body due to that. A few days after his death I dreamt that he was looking good and was telling a friend of his that he was fine and all his blisters had healed. But for some reason my mother has never comes in my dreams. I think it is because my mother lived to see us well settled while my father didn't. If there is something called soul then my father's soul perhaps wanted to be part of any celebration in the family.
I have regular dreams but most of the time I cannot remember anything when I wake up. But these are a few that I can remember and they usually involve my dead relatives. I don't read too much into my dreams nor do I look for interpretations. But I do offer a silent prayer asking God to take care of things.
In this post I am generally going to share with you some eerie dreams I had. Sue had long back tagged me asking me to write about my dreams. Being the boring teacher that I am, I wrote out a long list of figurative dreams of how I wanted terrorism to be wiped out and other similar stuff befitting my age. She then told me that she meant real dreams and I had promised that I'd share them later so here I go.
Dream no.1 I was around 13 years of age and it was a Saturday morning. I was studying in a residential school and we were allowed an extra hour of sleep on saturdays and Sundays. I woke up sweating profusely. I had a dream that my dad was in hospital and he was on some life support system. There were all kinds of tubes and stuff and he was all skin and bones. I recognize him only by his voice. We, in the boarding school believed that Friday night's dreams come true but if it was a bad dream its effect could be neutalized if shared. I quickly woke my friends up and shared my dream. Unfortunately the dream did come true and in the months that followed the same dream recurred a few more times and 4 months later when I visited my father in hospital I was shocked to see everything exactly as it was in my dream. My dad, a 175 pounder had been reduced to a skeleton and some 6 months later he died. I had never seen the interior if a hospital room before so I cannot explain how I got such a vivid picture of the hospital scene.
Dreams no.2 Just before my marriage I had a dream that my dad had come with a suitcase and said that he planned to spend sometime with us. He continued to come in my dreams prior to my younger sister's and older brother's weddings. My younger brothers got married some 12 years after our weddings. I almost expected him to come in my dreams when the two younger brothers got married. But no, he didn't.
Dream no. 3. This again involves my dad. I had, by then, almost stopped expecting him to visit me in my dreams. It was more that 33 years since he passed away. I was advised bed rest following high blood pressure. My dad took me in my dream to Patna for an interview. He leaves me at the gate of the Secretariat and vanishes much to my annoyance. My name is called out and I try to go in when a little girl asks me if I was PR and when I answer in the affirmative she asks me to go back saying that I was not called. I insist saying that I had indeed been called but she does not let me in.
I wonder what dreams are? I've had my mother in law coming in my dreams soon after her death. My father in law's blood urea count shot up before his death and he developed blisters all over his body due to that. A few days after his death I dreamt that he was looking good and was telling a friend of his that he was fine and all his blisters had healed. But for some reason my mother has never comes in my dreams. I think it is because my mother lived to see us well settled while my father didn't. If there is something called soul then my father's soul perhaps wanted to be part of any celebration in the family.
I have regular dreams but most of the time I cannot remember anything when I wake up. But these are a few that I can remember and they usually involve my dead relatives. I don't read too much into my dreams nor do I look for interpretations. But I do offer a silent prayer asking God to take care of things.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
All is not lost
I had lamented in my last post the plight of education and the dearth of good teachers to train young minds. True, the teaching profession has lost its charm thanks to their underpaid and over worked condition. However all is not lost. The pictures posted above indicate the effort of Mrs. Anjali Bose, a seventy three year old social worker who has taken it on herself to do her bit for the girl child in Jharkhand. Her school is called 'setu vidyalaya' or 'bridge school'. The Jharkhand government identified her organization and gave her the job of coaching 50 girls between the age of 9 and 14 and raise their level of understanding to that of Grade 6 in a regular school identified by the government. Their education upto the 12th grade would then be the responsibility of the state government. These girls had to be school drop outs as certified by the headman of their village. The school was to be a residential one and the time granted to them was 9 months. She was supposed to appoint a teacher, an assistant teacher and a cook.
Mrs. Anjali Bose was already running a sewing class in her house in the outskirts of Jamshedpur. She converted it to a residential school and within 4 months the change undergone by these girls was visible. Today at least 30 of these students expect to be absorbed in the school marked out for them. They take their exams in February 2010.
The government carries out periodic checks and the grant is given out in part after ensuring that the previous amount has been properly utilized. The cause for cheer mainly lies in the fact that palms were not greased to obtain it nor does she plan to press for renewal of the project. Should the authorities consider her competent renewal should automatically follow is her stand.
It is not as if it was a cake walk all the way. Parents were wary and suspicious of her intentions. More than other things parents from a rural background had to be convinced about the importance of educating the girl child. A truly service minded teacher had to be appointed, who would agree not only work for the pittance paid to her but also double up as honorary store keeper cum warden. Many of the girls were illiterate and had to be taught from scratch. The government allowance covered only the children's board and lodge. The 5 staff members ie 2 teachers, a cook, a gatekeeper and maid who kept a round the clock vigilance on these young girls were perhaps expected to live on fresh air and water. Extra bathrooms had to be built, bed and bed linen had to be provided, at least 2 sets of uniforms had to be stitched and a buffer amount kept ready to counter any delay in payment by the government. Then there was always a chance of the girls falling ill so that too had to be taken care of.
Luckily, all these issues have been addressed. The teacher who works for them is sincere and efficient. She has her own set of problems but she still manages to teach these children some singing and gets involved in their physical training and games too. They are given simple chores to do and a healthy foundation to community living is being imbibed by these children albeit unconsciously.
The photographs above were taken on Independance day and in the first photograph Anjalidi can be seen addressing the gathering. This is an example of good work done against all odds and the dearth of good teachers that society faces is not because they are underpaid but rather because the importance of the profession has been conveniently forgotten. But I still insist that all is not lost.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Happy teacher's Day
I am a little late with my teacher's day post the reason being my dilemma as to whether the celebration of teacher's day is required or justified any more. Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of respect for teachers since they train young impressionable minds. But teaching is not a preferred career these days. When I was growing up teaching was considered as perhaps the safest option for working women. I know of a friend whose mother would allow her to leave town and work in another place some 250 miles away only on condition that she worked in an all girl's school with a teacher's hostel attached. The rules for teachers in this school were only slightly more lenient when compared to students. If students were allowed a weekly outing and had to return by 6 in the evening teachers could go out daily if they wished but had to leave whatever they were doing and return by 7 in the evvening. Teachers could go for a matinee show on Sundays while an occasional film was screened for students in the school auditorium. Yet these teachers gave their best services and students loved and respected them.
My own brothers were schooled in a primary school where there were benches only for the seniormost class ie the 5th standard. The rest would sit on wooden planks with all sections of a particular class being held in the same hall. Their first standard teacher was a widow who had taken a 2 year diploma course in teaching after finishing her matriculation. When my brother joined school he cried so much that I sat through the class for a whole week. I was myself in standard 10 and studying in an expensive boarding school. My father had just passed away and the family could no longer afford costly education for my younger siblings. The week I spent in a corner of the class was an eye opener. They were being taught by a born teacher who inculcated a love for learning in them. Today my brothers are doing well in life with one of them having graduated from IIM, Bangalore in the mid 80's and another a product of Anna University, Chennai. The headmaster, a simple unassuming man came home to meet my mother on Gandhi Jayanthi Day along with my brother who had been awarded the first prize in an inter school speech competition. He was perhaps in Standard 2 or 3. My mother treated him to some salted buttermilk. He recognized some potential in the boy and predicted a great future for him. This man was given the President's award for best teachers on Republic day. Those were days when merit was recognized and lobbying was unheard of. A good school may not have tall multistoreyed buildings but they certainly need the right person at the top. Unfortunately I forget the name of this great man but he certainly led by example and motivated the teachers under him to do their best.
Fast forward by 40 years. I was approached by a saleswoman who frequents our apartment complex to help her daughter with English. The girl was in standard 9 and studied in a government run Hindi medium school. I asked her to bring her English text and saw that she had a few good pieces in her book. Poems by Shelly and Wordsworth, an abridged version of part of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice etc. I was delighted. I had studied 'The Merchant of Venice' in the original for my 11th Boards and I welcomed the idea of reading Portia's piece on 'The quality of mercy..........'. But unfortunately I was not prepared for what I got. That the girl could not read a line from her text book was bad enough but she could not write the full 26 letters of alphabet or frame simple sentences using 4 to six words. How she managed to land in standard 9 was a mystery. I asked her to write a paragraph on her school in Hindi. She barely manged to write something but her writing was bad and spellings worse. What about science I wondered. She had managed to scrape through her exams. The teacher had written out a few answers that she had memorised and managed to pass. I wondered if this was the state of affairs in North India and if it was always so. After all my brothers and many others like them had studied in vernacular medium schools and were very successful in life.
"It was never like this" said my colleague and my mentor and Ph.D guide Dr. AKP endorsed her view.
"Your brothers sat on wooden planks but I had to carry my own mat to school" he said. "I had to cross a river on the way and very often the flimsy bridge made of bamboo poles would sway during cyclonic weather and yet we braved adverse weather conditions to attend school.
"Sir, government school teachers are being paid well what are they upto instead of teaching their students?" I asked.
"One can hardly blame them." said my guide. They are given all kinds of odd jobs. They are involved with counting cattle and livestock, they participate in polio eradication drives and carry out door to door surveys to identify below poverty line families that qualify for BPL ration cards. Census counts, distribution and rectification of erroneous voter identity cards or any work that the government wants them to do is gladly taken up by government school teachers. Our teachers only had to teach but these people have to do everything but teach. Does the DEO have the moral right to ask them why their students cannot write a simple sentence or understand basic science or Indian history for that matter?"
I seemed to understand something though not everything. We are a densely populated country and millions of young men and women are unemployed. Why cannot the government appoint them on adhoc basis to do such work and leave teachers to do the job assigned to them at the time of their appointment? If this is the way we treat our teachers do we have the right to celebrate teacher's day?
However I still admire those that take up the profession and struggle to do their best against all odds. It is these men and women who still allow us to hope that all is not lost.
Happy teacher's day to all teachers!!
My own brothers were schooled in a primary school where there were benches only for the seniormost class ie the 5th standard. The rest would sit on wooden planks with all sections of a particular class being held in the same hall. Their first standard teacher was a widow who had taken a 2 year diploma course in teaching after finishing her matriculation. When my brother joined school he cried so much that I sat through the class for a whole week. I was myself in standard 10 and studying in an expensive boarding school. My father had just passed away and the family could no longer afford costly education for my younger siblings. The week I spent in a corner of the class was an eye opener. They were being taught by a born teacher who inculcated a love for learning in them. Today my brothers are doing well in life with one of them having graduated from IIM, Bangalore in the mid 80's and another a product of Anna University, Chennai. The headmaster, a simple unassuming man came home to meet my mother on Gandhi Jayanthi Day along with my brother who had been awarded the first prize in an inter school speech competition. He was perhaps in Standard 2 or 3. My mother treated him to some salted buttermilk. He recognized some potential in the boy and predicted a great future for him. This man was given the President's award for best teachers on Republic day. Those were days when merit was recognized and lobbying was unheard of. A good school may not have tall multistoreyed buildings but they certainly need the right person at the top. Unfortunately I forget the name of this great man but he certainly led by example and motivated the teachers under him to do their best.
Fast forward by 40 years. I was approached by a saleswoman who frequents our apartment complex to help her daughter with English. The girl was in standard 9 and studied in a government run Hindi medium school. I asked her to bring her English text and saw that she had a few good pieces in her book. Poems by Shelly and Wordsworth, an abridged version of part of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice etc. I was delighted. I had studied 'The Merchant of Venice' in the original for my 11th Boards and I welcomed the idea of reading Portia's piece on 'The quality of mercy..........'. But unfortunately I was not prepared for what I got. That the girl could not read a line from her text book was bad enough but she could not write the full 26 letters of alphabet or frame simple sentences using 4 to six words. How she managed to land in standard 9 was a mystery. I asked her to write a paragraph on her school in Hindi. She barely manged to write something but her writing was bad and spellings worse. What about science I wondered. She had managed to scrape through her exams. The teacher had written out a few answers that she had memorised and managed to pass. I wondered if this was the state of affairs in North India and if it was always so. After all my brothers and many others like them had studied in vernacular medium schools and were very successful in life.
"It was never like this" said my colleague and my mentor and Ph.D guide Dr. AKP endorsed her view.
"Your brothers sat on wooden planks but I had to carry my own mat to school" he said. "I had to cross a river on the way and very often the flimsy bridge made of bamboo poles would sway during cyclonic weather and yet we braved adverse weather conditions to attend school.
"Sir, government school teachers are being paid well what are they upto instead of teaching their students?" I asked.
"One can hardly blame them." said my guide. They are given all kinds of odd jobs. They are involved with counting cattle and livestock, they participate in polio eradication drives and carry out door to door surveys to identify below poverty line families that qualify for BPL ration cards. Census counts, distribution and rectification of erroneous voter identity cards or any work that the government wants them to do is gladly taken up by government school teachers. Our teachers only had to teach but these people have to do everything but teach. Does the DEO have the moral right to ask them why their students cannot write a simple sentence or understand basic science or Indian history for that matter?"
I seemed to understand something though not everything. We are a densely populated country and millions of young men and women are unemployed. Why cannot the government appoint them on adhoc basis to do such work and leave teachers to do the job assigned to them at the time of their appointment? If this is the way we treat our teachers do we have the right to celebrate teacher's day?
However I still admire those that take up the profession and struggle to do their best against all odds. It is these men and women who still allow us to hope that all is not lost.
Happy teacher's day to all teachers!!
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