Toughness and Empathy

November 2016

I saw you today for the second time. You are ~250 grams and quite active. You waved to us  and we oohed and aahed about how awesome you are. The technician asked if we want to know your sex and we declined. Your baba and I figured that knowing a few months early is not going to change anything for us.The main reason for not finding out is not only to keep the suspense till the end but also because I wanted to give you few more weeks of just being you.

From the moment you are born, you will be compartmentalized, judged and put in bins. Boy, girl, thin, fat, short, cute, then as you become a toddler - gentle, climber, talkative, active....then the school years come - brown, black, white...cool, intelligent, pretty and the list goes on.

Most of these pre-conceived notions that we attribute to people are part of being humans but sometimes it is quite harmful. When I first moved to US, some people made fun of caste system in India. I am not proud of caste system and how some section of the population was treated for centuries, but I asked my colleagues, what about the caste system around us now.  Usually these white liberals I am talking to get annoyed by my statement and I say - “Look around you, hard walled offices for some people and not for others, lack of minority or women in the workplace.” Bias has existed over centuries and it will exist in your lifetime. Don't kid yourself in thinking that the world is perfect.

When you will be born, we will have a president of the country who does not shy away from racist and sexist behavior. I predict that before the age of 10, one of your classmates will call you names based on your skin color, the different foods that you eat or your clothes.

Amma will try to protect you from most things, but I cannot be there forever fighting by your side. So dear unborn baby, if there is one thing I want to teach you is to be sensitive to others feelings, but insensitive to the things that people who you don't care about say to you.

When I got married to your baba, I did not think that my children will not fit anywhere. But now I have started thinking about it. You are a mutt and I mean it in the best way, but the problem with not looking like the rest of the pack puts you in a position where you have to constantly prove yourselves to the pack. It is not easy. So, the second thing I want to teach you is to be tough - mentally and physically tough. You are going to need it to live in this world.

People may say move to another place where people are more welcoming. To that I say, people are the same everywhere, today they may welcome some kind of people, two decades later if the economic conditions change, some group of people will become the target. It is just human nature to blame people who don't look/eat/act/pray like them.

I don't want you to run away from situations or make you live in a liberal bubble, I want to give you tools to be able to be useful to society, love your neighbors, friends and colleagues no matter how different their background are from yours.

I don’t have the answers dear unborn baby on how to make you tough and empathetic, how to let you be part of the pack, but also question the pack. But I promise to try very hard and we will figure this out together.

Umma! I am enjoying your kicks :)

Thanks for making me silly....

October 2015

Yesterday you asked me for Soi(water) and I gave you some, knowing that cute smile on your face, I told you repeatedly, Soi is only for drinking, not for playing, do not spit it out please. You took the sippy cup from me, took a gulp of water and spit it out. Then you ran away from me and did the same all around the dining room. Of course I got annoyed but looking at you laughing and giggling over the spills I let you play for another minute. Then I came over and took the cup and sternly said, no spitting, soi is only for drinking. At that instant I did what I thought a parent should do.

But after putting you to bed and as I was drinking my tulsi tea, I replayed the scene in my head. If I didn’t have to clean up the floor and did not know about norms of society, I would totally do what you did. I mean, spitting water out is so much fun! This made me realize when did I grow up so much! When did I become this adult who sucks the fun out of simple pleasures of life!

The one who asked you not to spit is the same woman who this year at the age of 35 played more than one prank on her co-workers. I covered a person’s cube with photos of teenage idols and scared the wits off another by pretending to be a visa officer. So much for professionalism!  This is the same woman when she was in college sat in the back bench of a lecture and played cards and ate cake under the bench. This is the same woman who when she was in school was asked to stand out of the class because she talked and laughed too loud in a non-ladylike fashion.

Let me tell you baby girl, each one these incidents is what makes me who I am. I am not perfect, but I try to make the best of the situation and make life fun. I made a boring class into fun by sneaking cards into the class, getting buy in from peers and played. This involves creativity, leadership, team effort and risk. And not to mention oh, all the fun and the giggles, I still smile when I think about the back bench days.

So dear BoBo, who am I to judge a 22 month old spitting some water and making my dining room a mess. In this quest to have a well behaved child, I sincerely hope I don’t make your life less fun.

You playing in the snow

Rolling around and eating it...So much fun!!

Well behaved women never make history and I am sure these women who made history had mothers who let them be, play an extra few minutes in the shower, skip a boring no value added homework or play in the puddle so much that I have to hose you down before you enter the house (this has happened more than once already!).

I want you to know that I will be strict, just because that is my nature. I do not take nonsense from people, whether it is my boss, coworker or your father. The same goes for you. But I also want you to explore the world in your own ways, giggle and cry at your own mistakes.

So next time you ask for that soi with a mischievous smile, this is what I will do. I will give it to you and ask you to play outside so that I don’t have to clean up, or I will let you play for few minutes so that you can have some fun and then take the bottle from you.

You still have to listen to me but you are entitled to have fun too. I hope I remember this every time your carefree innocent silliness takes over and I hope it rubs me in a positive way and brings the child in me.

Today I have it all

Today I have a holiday, I have been super excited about this holiday and my plan was to send you to daycare, baba will be away at work and I will have a “Me” day all by myself. I had plans to go to the yoga class in the morning, have lunch out and go for a movie. This is typical me, planning and packing my one free day.

The day went exactly like planned till 8am, then I just went under the sheets and read a mystery novel for more than an hour. I came downstairs to a bright beautiful fall day, poured a cup of pom juice in a wine glass and sat in the living room overlooking the lake.

I just sat there for few minutes, just soaking in the quietness of the house, the beauty of nature outside. This is life, the freedom of doing whatever I want,the quiet house, the feeling of a baby move inside me and  your owl “C” on the table staring at me.

In the hustle of everyday life, I forget to stop and smell the roses in my life. Today in these few minutes, I look around the beautiful life I have built. I have the warmth and the glow in my heart that only comes from knowing that you are loved, I can love the quietness the house after the chaos of a happy family in the morning. I appreciate the time off I have from a well paying and challenging job. Today at this moment, I feel I have it all.

I hope you feel the same when you grow up and stop to gaze at the life you have built.

Don't call me Honey

You came to me one day after shopping and asked - "Why do people call me honey? I am not honey and I don't make honey like bees. Can you please ask them to stop calling me honey?"

It is true, strangers esp in farmers market and grocery store call my daughter as honey or sweetie. I know she is super cute and it may be common to call young kids these names. I have also noticed that no one calls  a toddler boy or a man honey, sweetie no matter how cute they are or young they are.

I love pet names and have many, but pet names are for people who know you. My mother or my friend can call my daughter or me in whatever endearing way she wants, however long she wants. But if you don't know us and just want to be nice, give us a big smile and say hi, don't call us honey.

Even a 2 year old finds this to be annoying, not to mention how a middle aged woman feels when her coworker calls her that! There are many ways to be nice and kind to strangers, calling someone honey or sweetie is not one of them.

Dear Bobo, In life whenever anyone calls you things you don’t like, look them in the eye and say that you don't like to be called that way. Based on my experience, this name calling is only going to increase from here, so it's good to practice and stand up now when you are 2 to the strangers and just look them in the eye and say- “Don't call me Honey”.

Lunch box makes my soul sing

I opened my lunchbox today with excitement. My lunch was packed perfectly just the way I like it. I was enveloped with joy just looking at the food, even before tasting it; a kind of happiness that is hard to put into writing.

If this was a Bollywood movie, this is the time for the perfect background music, Sharukh khan standing on top of a cliff surrounded by breathtaking scenery, lifting his hands with a smile on his face, breeze in the background - all 90s kids who grew up in India would understand.

Peas Pulao, Zuccini and Beans with coconut

Since you have no idea of what I am talking about, let me try writing about it -the feeling is like my soul is singing “Thom Thom Thom”, uplifting my mood, the smell and sight of the food flooding me with the happiest thoughts from my life.

You may ask dear baby, Why so much emotion over a lunch box? My lunchbox today is one of the few things money cannot easily buy. It is not about the contents of the lunchbox (of course, the contents were yummy and did fill my not only my tummy but also my heart and soul), but it is the surprise element and the expectation from the lunch box. I understand that my statement is an oxymoron, let me explain.

You see, I did not know what was in the lunch box before I opened it. Thatha ammumma had packed it the day before, hence the excitement in opening it. I knew for sure that the food will be excellent, but was eager to find out about the treat that was waiting for me. Opening this lunchbox is like opening a gift that you know you would love.  

The first two decades of my life, I opened my lunch boxes, ate the food, often complimented on the food and occasionally complained. But now when I open it at 35 years of age, I have a different perspective to it.

For the last few months I have been packing your lunch boxes. Now I know the thought process behind it, the planning, the preparation, tweaking the amount to get it just right so that my baby will finish it with the right amount of satisfaction, that fine line before overeating but satisfaction.

Rice with egg curry, beetroot and eggplant

My parents have perfected this art and know how each one of us like their lunches. When I open the lunchbox, I go down this memory lane of smells and sights of the many lunch boxes that was packed for me in a loving way. This is why I love the “commonness” of the lunch box. The sight and smell is so familiar but only to me.

According to Hinduism, you have to had many lives of good service to be born a human being. You need more punyam (good deeds) to be born for parents who pack lunch religiously for you, tweak it the way you love it with the best ingredients available. We both won the lottery on that one. But I think I won the jackpot to enjoy this into adulthood and have Amma and Appa who still pack my lunch with the special care as if I am a 2 year old. I hope baby girl that you will also be as lucky as me and I pack your lunch when you are 35!

My Death Anniversary

I  love rituals, the morning ritual of waking up, going to work, the evening ritual of going to bed. I like the comfort in it. 

I come from a culture which is full of rituals, most of them are religious. I used to find a lot of them annoying and still do. But I do love the rituals during festivals. The sadhya and swing for onam, the firecrackers for Diwali and the stars we hung outside our house for Xmas, kolam for pongal.

When we grew up Ammumma and Thatha used to remember the passing away of their loved ones by making a feast for the deceased. The feast includes the favorite food and drinks of the loved one who passed away.

After my dear friend passed away I started following this ritual. Every year on the day of his death, I will make his favorite dishes and buy sprite or 7up as he did not drink alcohol and his go to drink was sprite. 

While growing up, I didn't understand the significance of this ritual, but making a meal for a loved one is a loving way to remember the person, mourn for them, heal a little. When you grow up, as we make this meal together for him I will tell you stories about my friend so that his memories gets passed onto the next generation. 

Just lighting a lamp or singing a song takes few minutes, you may remember the person but it is short. You sigh and you think about some fond memories of that person and move on with your life. But I find cooking a meal for them is slightly different. In my friend's case, he was our lunch group leader. According to him it was an invitation only club and he made sure everyone showed up on time. He has invited me to his house multiple times, and we have had super bowl parties at his place. 

Now it has been 4 years since his death, and I find myself forgetting the little details. As I cook for him, I force the memories back. And making the feast for an hour or so my heart fills with different emotions, first sad, then my heart breaks a little, then I think of happy memories with him, watching movies, playing pranks at work, going out for dinner and by the end of the meal, I sit with a heavy heart. 

Finally I understand this ritual, more than anything  else, it is way to spend time and your energy for your loved one, and you wish from the bottom of the heart that they were with you sharing the meal with you.

So baby girl, when I die, on my death anniversary what would you make for me? This is so typical of me, telling you how to celebrate my death and planning the way it should be ( or the way I think it should be). 

I like so many foods that I think you may have to do a rotation. Odd years you make a veggie bonanza meal with lentils, rice, peas curry, beetroot, cauliflower curry , even years you can make roti and yummy thatha's chicken curry. And of course a screwdriver with a generous pouring of vodka. 

If there is something like after life, I will visit you and sit with you while you prepare the food for me and we can reminisce over our memories together. I love you baby this life and after.

Use it till you break it

December 2015

I came back home and Baba told me that a tragedy happened. He said you were helping him unload the dishwasher and in the process one of you dropped my coffee cup. I looked at my coffee cup which was placed on the counter broken into three pieces and my heart broke a little.

 I have seen this cup all my life and now to see it broken was painful. Your grandparents (Thatha and Ammumma) bought this cup from France three years before I was born. That makes the cup at least 38 years. For 38 years this cup has been in our family. 

Thatha and ammumma have a beautiful collection of glasses and cups that they have taken very good care of over the years. Most of these glassware was in our "hall" or dining room. It was in a see through glass shelf and we used these bowls only for special occasion. A special guest, a special gathering, these cups and glasses were special. After all, they were made in France, packed very carefully, moved continents and houses and were special. 

Once in few months, Amma will take these glasses and wash them carefully and put them back. 

After I moved to US, when I went back home and Appa asked me what I want to take back with me, I asked him for one of those cups. I am sure he had a lot of sentimental value attached to them, but he gave them to me. I have been using them ever since for the last 5 years. 

Every day I wake up and spend my "me" time with that little cup. It may sound that I am materialistic and putting a lot of importance on a small cup, but the cup had a lot of history. It has lived for more years than me, lived in more countries than I have and I liked it and it was part of my day.

But now it is broke. Fortunately, I have one more cup of the same kind. The question is do I keep this unbroken cup safe and not use it every day. Should I take care of it like Amma did or continue using it as part of my day, my me time. 

The advantage of keeping it safe will be a long life for the cup but what is the point? Just like in life, do you always want to be safe, sheltered and not take risk, not live your life fully, but have a safe long life.

I decided my cup should be the way I want to live life. Enjoy it fully, take some risks but not too much and be useful to someone. So I decided to use the cup everyday, but wash it myself before I leave for work. 

RIP little cup, you will be sorely missed.

The mantra for you my dear Kutambi is to use things till you break it. Work hard till you cannot anymore, help people till you cannot anymore, love yourself and others till you cannot anymore, most importantly laugh so hard that you cannot anymore…. Enjoy the little cups that come your way, dont let them sit on the cupboard waiting for that special moment because everyday is special!