Two of my female colleagues are pregnant. One at 8 months, looking like she could pop any day. Big big beautiful belly carrying a baby all day. The other, at 4 months, usually a very flat stomached woman, now you can see the baby bump. Ever so slight but still obvious, growing a little every day.
And everyday as I see these women, I realise how absolutely beautiful a pregnant woman's body is. There is something so organic, so raw about that body- the breasts that start to fill in, the skin that begins to glow or on days look weathered, the belly that expands slowly at first and then as if the child just seems to want to burst forth. The confidence of the that body, as the woman walks around all day, working like the rest, doing things as normal as ever at the same time accomodating the creation of a human life within.
What makes it even more beautfiful is that for those 9 months, the female body must reject every other stigma, every other rule, every other stereotype that sets all these rules around the female anatomy. Stick thin, dieting, eat like a mouse, avoid all carbs, thin arms, flat stomach, perfect boobs , photoshopped bodies and on and on and on. For those nine months, you eat for two and them some more, you get on that weighing scale, hoping to see the extra pounds, you eat what you crave withoutt worrying about the calories and you let the belly grow. For once, your body is yours and that of your child growing within.
And the confidence that comes with that body. I can almost see it on the faces. I mean, you are creating a human life within you- would you need another reason to feel more empowered? Bootcamps don't even come close.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
The art of unparenting involving 3 kids and a drowning bee
It's important that I write this down. Not because I think I will forget- oh no, this one incdient is etched in my minds- the details of it as clear as though it happened yesterday. It's important that I write it down so I also remember clearly what I took away from it. And take away from I did. A lesson in parenting or perhaps "un parenting".
It was a hot Bangalore day. Hot and humid and just right for the pool. So I was walking the kids for a swim- my 4 year old, my 8 year old and another 8 year old - in their swim shorts and flip flops and towels lazily slung across. We got to the pool and as they were about to get in, they spotted a bee in the water, struggling to keep afloat. The were mesmerized by what they saw- the 4 year old was even nervous. There was a bee in the swimming pool.
My instant thought was that they were now scared to get in. My insticnct was to save the day for them. My advice was to ignore the bee and get in from the other end. And when I told them to do that they didn't react- they only stood around and watched the bee. So I said it again, as parents do, when we think the kids aren't listening. See, I had got them for a swim so I was on a mission to get them into the pool.
And then my son looked at me and said " But the bee is alive- we should save it." The other two nodded fervently and in unison. Of course, that was the only thing to do. WIthout even discussin it , all 3 of them knew it. Just like that.
And just like that in the next 5 minutes, we found a leaf, hauled the bee out, put it on the grass, the sun dried it up. And the bee flew away.
And I remember looking at their faces and that expression of sheer joy and achievement and kindness and relief - a swim in the pool would never even come close!
How often do I read about Buddhism. Because I like the philsophy of it and I want to be a better person for learning it. And how often is it reiterated in Buddhism the importance of kindness to animals. To quote, "Therefore, those who are not kind to animals, would do well to develop the feeling of love and compassion for animals. Remember that the animals have feelings of pleasure and pain, of joy and sorrow, like all of us. It is not possible to escape the consequences of one's deeds. Remember, therefore, that some of your own relatives or friends may by the process of the inexorable law of Karma be reborn in this state of woe, and so even yourself, if you are not sufficiently virtuous."
For all my reading, for all my wisdom, that day I learnt the true meaning of it all- and that lesson got handed down to me by three kids whose collective age is half of mine.
Sometimes we must teach them. But more often than that, we must learn.
Monday, November 26, 2012
This is true and that is what I imagine
So, teeth fall. It is a bilogical process. There is science that explains the why and how and when.
And then there is the tooth fairy. And she sneaks in at night through the window or the door or the chimney and sometime she jingles but not loud to wake anyone up and she slips a present under the pillow and takes the tooth away. Sometimes she is too busy fixing an elephant's cavity in India so she can't be at the tooth loss house in Japan so she sends an elf or a pixie.
Water is a chemical substance. It is a chemical substance with the chemical formula H2O, containing one oxygen and two hydrogen atoms connected by covalent bonds. It is that.
And then are water faries and water nymphs. And sea monsters that threaten the pirates that sail the ferocious seas. And mermaids that lead the sailors to safety and water nymphs that are things of beauty.
The moon is the only natural satelite of the earth and the fifth largest satellite in the solar system. system. The Moon is in synchronous rotation with Earth, always showing the same face with its near side marked by dark volcanic maria that fill between the bright ancient crustal highlands and the prominent impact craters. It is the brightest object in the sky after the Sun, although its surface is actually very dark, with a reflectance similar to that of coal.
And then the cow jumped over the moon. The old lady that lives in the moon. And sometimes the mice eat the moon so you can only see half of it. But then the sun makes the moon grow whole again.
There is the human body and the human mind. And it can all be explained in atoms and molecules and DNA. And how we think and what life is and the end. And then there is the soul and destiny and karma and afterlife and events in your life that are somewhat inexplicable.
The universe explained and the universe unexplored.
The ground we can tread and the galaxies that we can't.
In everything there is what it is and there is what can be imagined.
And then there is the tooth fairy. And she sneaks in at night through the window or the door or the chimney and sometime she jingles but not loud to wake anyone up and she slips a present under the pillow and takes the tooth away. Sometimes she is too busy fixing an elephant's cavity in India so she can't be at the tooth loss house in Japan so she sends an elf or a pixie.
Water is a chemical substance. It is a chemical substance with the chemical formula H2O, containing one oxygen and two hydrogen atoms connected by covalent bonds. It is that.
And then are water faries and water nymphs. And sea monsters that threaten the pirates that sail the ferocious seas. And mermaids that lead the sailors to safety and water nymphs that are things of beauty.
The moon is the only natural satelite of the earth and the fifth largest satellite in the solar system. system. The Moon is in synchronous rotation with Earth, always showing the same face with its near side marked by dark volcanic maria that fill between the bright ancient crustal highlands and the prominent impact craters. It is the brightest object in the sky after the Sun, although its surface is actually very dark, with a reflectance similar to that of coal.
And then the cow jumped over the moon. The old lady that lives in the moon. And sometimes the mice eat the moon so you can only see half of it. But then the sun makes the moon grow whole again.
There is the human body and the human mind. And it can all be explained in atoms and molecules and DNA. And how we think and what life is and the end. And then there is the soul and destiny and karma and afterlife and events in your life that are somewhat inexplicable.
The universe explained and the universe unexplored.
The ground we can tread and the galaxies that we can't.
In everything there is what it is and there is what can be imagined.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
My own little stories
My apartment faces a street- a fairly busy street. I like watching the street from the window. I like watching people and the movement and I like the fact that I can't hear them. SO I don;t know what they're saying, what their names are, where they are headed. Because then I can make that all up. And that becomes my own story for these characters that I am looking at.
I like doing this at night. Becasue then the street is not overly busy. So my characters are few and I can focus on them. Being a trendy neighborhood, come weekends especially, there are always the trendy people. All dolled and fancied up for a night about town. The older man, the younger woman. The newly dating couple. The married couple. The hispters in a large group. The older couple headed to a quiet sit down dinner. The group of girlfriends. They stand at the traffic light just beneath my window while the signal takes its own time to let them pass. There in those few minutes, a lot may happen for a story to unravel. The couple may sometimes kiss. Makes me then wonder- married, newly engaged, dating, serious, just a fling? Does he love her more than she loves him or vice versa. Will she meet a friend of his tonight at the restaurant and fall for him. Are they cheating on each other.
The older couple- she steps off the road as almost the same time as the signal changes and he holds her back. She turns at him and she is annoyed. She says something to him and he flings his hands on the air. She walks away without waiting for him. He follows, muttering. Power struggle? She thinks he is too controlling. She is a grown up and can take care of herself, least of all cross the street. But he doesn't think that of her. He is muttering as he walks. Why is she this way- every time he reaches out, she withdraws. Recoils, actually. Physically and emotionally. All he did was grasp her arm and pull her way from what was potentially unsafe. There are drivers that try and get through the last minute. So, she can't trust him. but it was only that one time. That one time and he got caught. And she will not forgive or forget or trust him again. She will only walk away every time for everything.
The girlfriends. Laughing, hugging each other spontaneously a shout at the guy across the street, check out the bags in the show window and while doing this, almost miss the walking signal but then hold hands and dash across the street in high heels and glitzy bags laughing their head off in gay reckless abandon. Dolled up, showing off skin, strutting in heels that do not look so comfortable.Check each other out, size her up and down, peek over the kissing couple. Get home perhaps, the make up comes off, the shoes flung away and massage the hurting feet. Thank god for girlfriends and girls night out. Now a pajama party. More shots, PJ's, comments about how being fashionable is so painful - what could compare to flannel PJ's and house slippers? One breaks down, she is drunk so the talking is so much easier. She can't stay home any more- the parents fight all the time, the abusive dad. the girls gather around. Band of sisters, woman to woman . Holding her hand, letting her talk, sharing their experiences. Gone is the glitz, the glamour, the make up. This is real.
So stuff like that. To me, people are what stories are made up of. People are stories. And when they walk around like that I try and tell them to myself.
Oh , and the subway! Now, that's another story....wait, stories.
I like doing this at night. Becasue then the street is not overly busy. So my characters are few and I can focus on them. Being a trendy neighborhood, come weekends especially, there are always the trendy people. All dolled and fancied up for a night about town. The older man, the younger woman. The newly dating couple. The married couple. The hispters in a large group. The older couple headed to a quiet sit down dinner. The group of girlfriends. They stand at the traffic light just beneath my window while the signal takes its own time to let them pass. There in those few minutes, a lot may happen for a story to unravel. The couple may sometimes kiss. Makes me then wonder- married, newly engaged, dating, serious, just a fling? Does he love her more than she loves him or vice versa. Will she meet a friend of his tonight at the restaurant and fall for him. Are they cheating on each other.
The older couple- she steps off the road as almost the same time as the signal changes and he holds her back. She turns at him and she is annoyed. She says something to him and he flings his hands on the air. She walks away without waiting for him. He follows, muttering. Power struggle? She thinks he is too controlling. She is a grown up and can take care of herself, least of all cross the street. But he doesn't think that of her. He is muttering as he walks. Why is she this way- every time he reaches out, she withdraws. Recoils, actually. Physically and emotionally. All he did was grasp her arm and pull her way from what was potentially unsafe. There are drivers that try and get through the last minute. So, she can't trust him. but it was only that one time. That one time and he got caught. And she will not forgive or forget or trust him again. She will only walk away every time for everything.
The girlfriends. Laughing, hugging each other spontaneously a shout at the guy across the street, check out the bags in the show window and while doing this, almost miss the walking signal but then hold hands and dash across the street in high heels and glitzy bags laughing their head off in gay reckless abandon. Dolled up, showing off skin, strutting in heels that do not look so comfortable.Check each other out, size her up and down, peek over the kissing couple. Get home perhaps, the make up comes off, the shoes flung away and massage the hurting feet. Thank god for girlfriends and girls night out. Now a pajama party. More shots, PJ's, comments about how being fashionable is so painful - what could compare to flannel PJ's and house slippers? One breaks down, she is drunk so the talking is so much easier. She can't stay home any more- the parents fight all the time, the abusive dad. the girls gather around. Band of sisters, woman to woman . Holding her hand, letting her talk, sharing their experiences. Gone is the glitz, the glamour, the make up. This is real.
So stuff like that. To me, people are what stories are made up of. People are stories. And when they walk around like that I try and tell them to myself.
Oh , and the subway! Now, that's another story....wait, stories.
Monday, May 7, 2012
My in between world.
Just got back from a 5 week vacation in India. And boy am I feeling a whirlwind of emotions. I don;t even know where to start. I pretty much am sure I can't articulate it all. I am not as seasoned a writer to clearly comprehend and then articulate the zillion thoughts that have been whizzing in and out of my brain. It's a roller coaster in there. Full throttle. And I can barely keep up.
Quite simply, I am torn. Between there and here. The thing is that everytime I go back to India for a vacation, it doesn't really feel like I am a tourist or a visitor. I blend in and India envelops me. I start living there as if that is where I live. Nothing seems strange, nothing seems disconcerting- it feels like I am home. I hop into rickshaws like I would into streetcars in Toronto. I cross the road with as much ease even though I am as hesitant to "jaywalk" here. I slip into churidars as easily as I do into my corporate attire. I chat with the dhobin as easily as I had never left. It all seems natural. It all feels like me. That feels like me. And this feels like me.
My relationships are there. My best friend- we talk more often and about more stuff than I do with anyone here. Mum and dad and the Noida house. My sister- we still trade clothes. My friends from the advertising fraternity. We catch up. It's all there and I pick up with so much ease from where I left off.
Home at Noida. Mum and dad still refer to the upstairs bedroom as my room. Not the guest room. That feels right. I settle right on. Everything seems familiar . Every corner feels like home. I know this space, this space know me. The garden, the terrace, the rooms, the kitchen- this is home. The meals, the timing of the meals, dad's gardening, mom's conversations, the chai that keeps coming, the dust and the dusting, the terrace. It all embraces me and I embrace it all.
13 days in Bangalore with my best friend and her family. I walked into her house after 3 and half years. I put my bags down and we hugged. And I just settled in. As if it was just another Friday night when I had come over to spend the weekend with her - like I did every Friday when I lived there. I did not feel like a guest. It just felt like an extension of my life, my space. I didn't feel like I was visiting. I felt like a part of me always lives here. Okay, definitely cannot articulate this. I know though, my best friend gets it. And then the energy I feel for those 13 days. Can't even begin to explain. Won't even try. The conversations, the laughs, the conversations, the kids, the conversations, the music, the conversations, the drinks, the conversations. The pure energy of it all. It was there then, it was there now. No time zone, no geographical distance can even come close to taking that away.
We visit my sister one day. She cooks for us. We all drink wine. We talk. We laugh. I ask to raid her closet. She threatens me with dire consequence if I do. And tells me to not even go near her jewellery. This is us. We do this. This is familiar.
And then Toronto is familiar. This is home. This is where I am. This is where my life is. This is who I am every single day. This is the air I breathe. The streets I walk. The subway I ride. The streetcar that takes me to places thar are familiar.
When did it become so comlicated? Or is it?
You kow that thing about the glass half full. Maybe that's what I need to do. I need to look at this differently. Maybe it is 2 worlds I live in. And 2 lives I live. And maybe that isn't a hard thing to deal with. Maybe my glass is neither half empty nor half full- I think it is spilling over with abundance.
Now you know what I mean by that roller coaster that's spinning in my head. Think I'm just going to enjoy the ride.
Quite simply, I am torn. Between there and here. The thing is that everytime I go back to India for a vacation, it doesn't really feel like I am a tourist or a visitor. I blend in and India envelops me. I start living there as if that is where I live. Nothing seems strange, nothing seems disconcerting- it feels like I am home. I hop into rickshaws like I would into streetcars in Toronto. I cross the road with as much ease even though I am as hesitant to "jaywalk" here. I slip into churidars as easily as I do into my corporate attire. I chat with the dhobin as easily as I had never left. It all seems natural. It all feels like me. That feels like me. And this feels like me.
My relationships are there. My best friend- we talk more often and about more stuff than I do with anyone here. Mum and dad and the Noida house. My sister- we still trade clothes. My friends from the advertising fraternity. We catch up. It's all there and I pick up with so much ease from where I left off.
Home at Noida. Mum and dad still refer to the upstairs bedroom as my room. Not the guest room. That feels right. I settle right on. Everything seems familiar . Every corner feels like home. I know this space, this space know me. The garden, the terrace, the rooms, the kitchen- this is home. The meals, the timing of the meals, dad's gardening, mom's conversations, the chai that keeps coming, the dust and the dusting, the terrace. It all embraces me and I embrace it all.
13 days in Bangalore with my best friend and her family. I walked into her house after 3 and half years. I put my bags down and we hugged. And I just settled in. As if it was just another Friday night when I had come over to spend the weekend with her - like I did every Friday when I lived there. I did not feel like a guest. It just felt like an extension of my life, my space. I didn't feel like I was visiting. I felt like a part of me always lives here. Okay, definitely cannot articulate this. I know though, my best friend gets it. And then the energy I feel for those 13 days. Can't even begin to explain. Won't even try. The conversations, the laughs, the conversations, the kids, the conversations, the music, the conversations, the drinks, the conversations. The pure energy of it all. It was there then, it was there now. No time zone, no geographical distance can even come close to taking that away.
We visit my sister one day. She cooks for us. We all drink wine. We talk. We laugh. I ask to raid her closet. She threatens me with dire consequence if I do. And tells me to not even go near her jewellery. This is us. We do this. This is familiar.
And then Toronto is familiar. This is home. This is where I am. This is where my life is. This is who I am every single day. This is the air I breathe. The streets I walk. The subway I ride. The streetcar that takes me to places thar are familiar.
When did it become so comlicated? Or is it?
You kow that thing about the glass half full. Maybe that's what I need to do. I need to look at this differently. Maybe it is 2 worlds I live in. And 2 lives I live. And maybe that isn't a hard thing to deal with. Maybe my glass is neither half empty nor half full- I think it is spilling over with abundance.
Now you know what I mean by that roller coaster that's spinning in my head. Think I'm just going to enjoy the ride.
Hello blog.
Hello blog. It's been a while. A very long while. And I apologise. Because the truth is I am very fond of you. Of this space. This space is very therapuetic. And I often think of visitng but then life interferes. Stuff comes up. This, that and this. But then I think I must make the time, find the time, borrow the time, steal the time. On some nights, the dishwasher can wait till the morning. Tidying up after the kids isn;t half as much fun. There is no therapy in browsing. Mindless TV does nothing for the soul.
So, hello, blog.
So, hello, blog.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Biwi ho to aisi
Here's the thing.
I know some inter racial couples. Indian men , my friends and mostly colleagues at work, married to white women-Canadian, American , Australian. And Indian women married to non Indian men.
And I for one, am all for inter racial, multi cultural marriages. Relationships must not be limited by ethnicity or cultural backgrounds. I get that.
But here's what I don't get. More often than note, whenever I talk to these couples, here's how it goes. Indian man- non Indian woman. The husband, for one will more often than not emphasize the fact that, his non Indian wife is actually so Indian. And to be honest I am not even quite sure what he means by actually so Indian- I mean, you are Indian, if you are Indian - if you're not Indian then you're Canadian, or American or Japanese.
Anyway, I smile along as he continues to state how his non Indian wife is so Indian- like, you know, she can cook Indian food, wear a salwar kurta or a sari, say namaste to the aunties, do oil massage for the kids, light diyas for Diwali and all those other things that , I am guessing in his mind, qualify one to be an Indian. She even went to India and ate street food and did not complain about anything, he adds. Oh yes, and she can dance in a sari at an Indian wedding.
And you know, I smile along and I even think that it is nice. She is making an effort to embrace his culture.
But here's the problem. Another conversation with the same set of people and now they are talking of a the other couple. Indian woman married to a non Indian man. And they are slamming her for having become so "American" and trying to embrace her husband's culture. Huh?
You know, like decorating the tree for Christmas, learning to cook a good Thanksgiving turkey, drinking wine (huh?????), not wearing a salwar kameez enough . Basically , they say, she is losing touch with her Indian culture.
Okay, so. Non Indian wife embracing Indian culture for sake of Indian husband is to be glorified. But Indian wife embracing North American culture for sake of non Indian husband is shameful.
Because:
(a) Indian culture is the best and the only one to be embraced?
(b) Non Indian woman marrying Indian man must try her best to be a good Indian wife by embracing his culture? But Indian woman marrying non Indian man must try her best to hang on to her culture because that will make her a good Indian wife.
(c) You marry a non Indian person but then want them to be "actually very Indian" and that they do by doing a few "Indian" things even though they are really not Indian.
(c) Hypocrisy? Plain and simple.
You tell me.
I know some inter racial couples. Indian men , my friends and mostly colleagues at work, married to white women-Canadian, American , Australian. And Indian women married to non Indian men.
And I for one, am all for inter racial, multi cultural marriages. Relationships must not be limited by ethnicity or cultural backgrounds. I get that.
But here's what I don't get. More often than note, whenever I talk to these couples, here's how it goes. Indian man- non Indian woman. The husband, for one will more often than not emphasize the fact that, his non Indian wife is actually so Indian. And to be honest I am not even quite sure what he means by actually so Indian- I mean, you are Indian, if you are Indian - if you're not Indian then you're Canadian, or American or Japanese.
Anyway, I smile along as he continues to state how his non Indian wife is so Indian- like, you know, she can cook Indian food, wear a salwar kurta or a sari, say namaste to the aunties, do oil massage for the kids, light diyas for Diwali and all those other things that , I am guessing in his mind, qualify one to be an Indian. She even went to India and ate street food and did not complain about anything, he adds. Oh yes, and she can dance in a sari at an Indian wedding.
And you know, I smile along and I even think that it is nice. She is making an effort to embrace his culture.
But here's the problem. Another conversation with the same set of people and now they are talking of a the other couple. Indian woman married to a non Indian man. And they are slamming her for having become so "American" and trying to embrace her husband's culture. Huh?
You know, like decorating the tree for Christmas, learning to cook a good Thanksgiving turkey, drinking wine (huh?????), not wearing a salwar kameez enough . Basically , they say, she is losing touch with her Indian culture.
Okay, so. Non Indian wife embracing Indian culture for sake of Indian husband is to be glorified. But Indian wife embracing North American culture for sake of non Indian husband is shameful.
Because:
(a) Indian culture is the best and the only one to be embraced?
(b) Non Indian woman marrying Indian man must try her best to be a good Indian wife by embracing his culture? But Indian woman marrying non Indian man must try her best to hang on to her culture because that will make her a good Indian wife.
(c) You marry a non Indian person but then want them to be "actually very Indian" and that they do by doing a few "Indian" things even though they are really not Indian.
(c) Hypocrisy? Plain and simple.
You tell me.
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