Settling in life

He was a young and energetic man who was probably 28 or 29. Asking for a virtual coffee talk, he spoke out his heartfelt feelings. He was getting ready for his wedding and it seemed that his fiancée and he were talking about future plans.

“Everything is prepared. We both have found our rented house, furnished it fully and also bought all home appliances needed. Just one month for our wedding but we don’t feel fulfilled. She is 27 and I’m 29 and we spoke about the reasons why we’re not yet settled. Many others of our age have their own apartments. We have planned to get a car soon but then I‘m afraid that we could get only a small one. I’m nervous about my wedding and after wedding we would have too many expenses. I’m just wondering if I could jump for a big hike and probably she too. We only feel anxious day by day and not happy about our big day. Can you please help me?” he looked worried.

I smiled. How many of you have similar thoughts? Out of every ten I speak to, atleast 7 make this statement “I’m not settled yet!”

Let’s ponder – what is settling in life? Is it about the fat savings in our bank accounts? Is it about a palatial mansion or a posh apartment? Is it about an expensive honeymoon? Is it about a luxury car? Well, it differs from person to person.

Have you ever rewinded your memories to different stages in life. We would consider an amount in mind that would be needed for us to settle. When we reach that stage, we increase our needs and then look at something else. When a person earns 20k he would imagine 30k would be decent to live life well. While he reaches 30k, he increases his needs and would look at 40k. This repeats forever and hence he doesn’t get a feeling of accomplishment. He only worries that he is unable to settle in life.

He fails to realise that it is he who grew his needs and desires over time and this has led to the anxiety of the future.

My memories rewind to about a decade back when Sapna, my maid came running staring she got her new house. She lived in a little tent at the backyard of a construction site and now got a room underneath the staircase of an apartment. She invited me to do a religious ritual at her 7*7 room where she lived with her husband and two kids. She fondly said that she now has a concrete ceiling and a little fan. This added joy to her life – “I’m settled finally” remarked she with a little dimple on her cheeks! Her innocent happy face still flashes across my heart!

I was married at 21 and my husband was 27 then. We lived in a small 1BHK. I had the habit of writing the budget in a small diary every month and bought just one thing per month. We had a floor mattress to sleep on, two blue plastic chairs welcoming our guests which is still here to remind the life we built. Our favourite commute was by foot and sometimes by auto rickshaw. We had no bike nor car.

We would dine in at a restaurant once a month and would walk together way back from the restaurant. I still remember buying a little table for 200 Rs where I placed my mixer grinder and rice cooker. After we shifted to another house, this table became our dining table for a decade.

The CRT TV that still stands at my home is a symbol of our colours in life. We put back money little by little to get this to watch songs together. It’s been eight years since I watched TV now but still the CRT smiles at me reminding me of the lovely times.

I remember the day my husband and I spoke for hours planning budgets for the family and little things one at a time. A decade journey where we built our lives together from scratch. My little scooty that is over a decade old which I still drive to my office is very special to me. The first big thing that I bought for myself putting back 1500 per month for over three years. The day I rode it home remains fresh in my heart. One another reason why I smile every morning as I start my day driving to work on this black scooty!

There has been no big celebrations – be it birthdays or anniversaries. There has been no gifts exchanged ever. Some may see it as a dumb or boring life but then the maturity it has given me over a period of time lets me take success and failure normally without being overwhelmed.

At the outskirts of Bangalore, here I am, sitting on the terrace in solitude that makes me feel blessed. Never did I yearn for something nor did I worry about settling in life. Life has gifted me enormous passion in what I do, be it my work or my writing!

Amidst my memory degradation, amidst my dark phases in life, I’m glad we built our lives together from scratch.

There wasn’t a day when I asked myself “am I settled?”. Isn’t it nice to build our lives, witness ups and downs, know how to cope up with 5 thousand or fifty thousand?

Isn’t it nice when you dare to live in any place with the littlest of things? Doesn’t it truly give you confidence to face any success or failure in life?

Isn’t it nice not to feel embarrassed to tell your friends and colleagues of how you are building your lives? Isn’t it nice to be yourself to everyone you meet around?

Settling in life is not about the riches you hold or how early in life you get everything or pamper the love of your life. It’s about meeting all circumstances together, crossing hurdles, making memories together.

Next time when you’re worried if you’re settled in life, tell yourself confidently “I am building my future and would live this journey!”

To all the women out there, be glad to support your man in this journey without belittling him. Lets get rid of the peer pressure that makes man run the rat race forgetting to make little experiences in life.

Live every moment, every day and count your blessings. While you are worried about having no extra room or extra pair of necklace, there is someone who sleeps at the platform wrapping their necks with torn shawls to overcome the winter night.

Whatever you do, just do it with passion and you’ll be amazed to see that you are living every moment and not just running! Let success or failure not define you nor get into your heads. The job titles, the riches, the luxury does not define your settlement. It’s the civilisation and human values that truly settles you.

May you have the courage to move on with a smile today and always!

A bad mother

Wake up before everyone else, cook, clean and prepare everything for the day. Kichidi for the little one, tomato chutney for the elder one – oh they don’t like bitter gourd; one another for them. They are ever in my eyes!

Production issues, calls, stakeholders communication, presentations – grab a hot coffee that turns cold and unfinished, rush to check on kids and return. Every minute of break is theirs and not mine!

Realise it’s time for the next meeting, catch up with the production issue, test, report, get back to emails and check the clock strikes 4 to give a bottle of milk to your toddler. As you sit for lunch your toddler laughs wickedly with his soiled diaper.

Work leaving the clock unnoticed; It’s 9:30 pm and leave your desk to get back to the little ones with dinner.

While the elder one remains a second mother, changes diaper and puts the younger one to sleep, my clock hasn’t invited me to bed yet. Final chores and preparation for the next day – what do they like – the clock strikes 12!

Wake up before kids, plan everything for them and make things ready and get back to bed after your kids – and yet branded a bad mother.

I’m a bad mother for I think of their choices and cook; I’m a bad mother for I take all the stress unto me to make sure their day goes well; I’m a bad mother for I missed my favourite coffee or lunch to clean his potty;

I stopped answering those comments for I know my kids are my world and I will do anything for them and also would not give up on my career! Yes I’m adamant and a loving mother but I don’t have to explain my motherhood!

Every working woman’s story!

Lockdown – working moms diary

#lockdown #newinterests #lockdownproductivity #lockdownlearning “What do you do to keep yourself interesting and occupied?”, “What are the new skills this lockdown?”, “Lets exchange lockdown ideas” – every minute and hour, there are emails and messages floating around.

“Let’s manage working on alternate timings. Else work wouldn’t move nor managing our little toddler” – we agreed on this as a working couple. I decided to work between 6:30 am to 3:30 pm and he between 2:30 pm to 11 pm. This sounded easy at first unless we saw the practical difficulties.

5 am – splashing some cold water on my face, I get ready for my day ahead. Washing vessels while dhal whistles asking me to pay attention like my toddler, I switch it off and cut the veggies. I hear my toddler cry and pacify him with a warm bottle of milk while I change his diaper. I get back to the kitchen to finish cooking. While the breakfast and lunch are ready and make their way to the table, my kitchen sink is flooded with vessels once again. Not new to me except for cleaning now!

My clock reminds its 6:10 and I rush to the bathroom to take a shower. Finishing my morning prayers and lighting the lamp, the fragrance of agarbhathi not only refreshes our home but also my environment for an energetic day.

Finishing couple of emails, I see that it’s time for the daily standup and check with my team on the activities for the day and impediments. Continuing my regular work, I see the time to be 9:30 am reminding me of the breakfast time for my toddler. Converting my 20 mins coffee break into feeding time, I rush to him playing some rhymes and feed him.

Getting back into my home office, I latch the door and continue work. My earphones cry sometimes for the long calls keeping them busy too. Testing issue, release plans, some queries, calls with stakeholders and there it is 12:30 pm.

My calendar smiles at me as she hasn’t seen me blocking time for lunch which is a new norm now. Not that I’m hungry in time but to check on my toddler. Giving him a short bath and rushing with a bowl of rice, he runs away from me.

Fussy eater who takes 40 mins for lunch and this leads to five mins left over time for my lunch or proceeding with no lunch. I rush back to my room and continue my work again. Not to forget my ten year old daughter who is completely on her own – getting ready, reading, watching TV, playing with her toys, caring for her little brother, eating on time, cleaning her plates – can’t thank her enough.

Sweeping and mopping, pacifying my toddler with his toys and playing not letting him inside my home office – my husband takes care of every little thing so as to keep my work uninterrupted. It’s just not a moms story!

As I went into the room, tears rolled down my cheeks as I saw my daughter changing diaper for her little brother one day. When asked, she said “I saw you and Appa on calls and didn’t want to disturb” – I hugged her!

It’s 3:30 pm already and maybe time to logout – however learning to say No is something yet to learn well. Speaking to project teams on the other side of the world, I overspill my time. My team makes friendly requests to check on some issues and I look into them forgetting time too.

As I logout, I see the dirty vessels welcoming me to the kitchen with virtual hugs. On the other side, the laundry basket is overflowing too. I switch on the washing machine and then start cleaning the vessels one by one. The stove with oil spills is next that awaits his bath. The adamant oil stains sit down like my little toddler and I scrub him too.

Meanwhile the clothes are fresh and wants to get out to dry themselves. With a bucket of them I let them out. The previous set of clothes wave at me to the wind ready to be taken in. Fold them – 1, 2, 3 and so on. “It’s 7 pm and you cheated me on your promise to play pallanguzhi” my angry daughter stares at me.

“Let me take a shower to freshen up Harshu” I plead her and “now you will take a shower, do the Pooja, cut veggies, cook dinner and go to bed” she screams – “I hate you”.

Freshening my toddler and myself, I light the lamp again to pray for the healthy, peaceful world and get back to the kitchen. “Let’s learn some cooking, come on Harshu” I keep her engaged and she giggles. “Amma, I love you. Sorry that I trouble you at times not knowing you’re busy” – “that’s all kids are! They are such darlings who don’t hold their egos” I smile to myself.

“Surprise” I wave at her showing the pallanguzhi (a game from ancient times) and she is super excited.

There are times when I get stressed and annoyed too. “I haven’t written my blogs or read even five pages of five books that I bought recently. What a life!” I sigh!

“Can you all please let me be calm. I’m just tired. I want some time for myself” I’ve screamed losing my temper too!

“Harshu, can you not keep your things tidy. I’m just tired clearing up things” I yell at her too.

“Thambi, don’t test my patience. Don’t climb on the table” I stop him and he still climbs the table for the twentieth time laughing at me wickedly!

The refrigerator cries for rest as he slams its door many times per second keeping an eye on the lights going on and off.

The veggies scream for help as he throws them one by one outside the basket playing fetch with Zooie and Cherry. Naughty Cherry appears calm in front of my energetic toddler.

After all the yells, I become a guilty mom too. “Sorry dear” I hug my little ones and we smile and sing together. “Amma, today he did this and that” my daughter recites all stories of the day as we settle for dinner.

“Please finish dinner soon” I plead my daughter as she smiles. “You said kitchen and table will close at 9:30” she winks pointing the clock striking 10:30.

Finally there we settle to bed at 11. A bottle of milk is a reflex action for my toddler to switch off the lights and he shows the switches. He signals to change his diaper too and brings a new one. Changing it he lifts the used one and throws it to the bin. I put him to bed and creep like a silent cat back to the kitchen.

Finishing the last dishes, I splash water on my face to get fresh and get back to my bed. “Amma, I’m not getting sleep. Can we read your blogs?” my daughter asks. “Why not” I open my site.

“Why aren’t there any new ones?” I smile at her question – “the new normal with no me-me time” I tell myself. I tell her something from my journal as she sleeps.

“Four days since I spoke to my mom or sister; Over a month since I blogged or read actively; Over two weeks since I participated in anti depression communities”

My day dawns and dusks juggling between work and home continuously. “Well, I believe in no pain, no gain; Be it career or home”. My personality as a mom reflects the kind of employee I am too. I don’t like the backlogs – be it vessels in the sink or tasks on my KanBo 😉 I check on my kids discipline – both at home and work. I feel more responsible and accountable – both to my families at home and work – both are my babies 😊

The new normal just gives me happiness that I can handle things under stress too. I laugh at the comments made as “guiltless working mom”. Every moms diary has such stories in their hearts. We move ahead with a smile. We aren’t longing for discounts nor empathy but we also know we are humans.

Dear ladies, you maybe stressed, you may scream, you may yell – do not worry, you are not alone. Pat yourselves that you’re doing a good job and move on!

“How do you use this lockdown? Any creative ideas” – “We are multiplying being a working mom and a lovely home maker as always”! This was always our norm!

Dedicated to all lovely ladies 😊

A moms battle

4:50 am – Turning off the unused alarm that was set for 5 am I wake up. Splashing a handful of cold water to make myself fresh, I start the day with a smile. Cutting the veggies, cooking the dhal for sambar, my rice cooker gets heated up. A plate of idlies for my toddler and the hot pan solidifying the batter into dosa for my daughter. My Kandha Shashti kavasam just gets over and I chant kurai ondrum illai to notice its 6 am. “Harshu, wake up” I move to the terrace with my Zooie and Cherry barking for a walk.

Harshu, my darling gets ready by herself with almost no troubles for me. “Pranavvvvv, are you going to school or office! Why do you wake up” I smile at my cackling toddler. He fondly asks me to lift him. There I am holding him on one hand and twisting my other hand to make another dosa. He gets busy watching me cook and learning some tricks maybe for his future!

“My print out; my paper” that’s her sound and finally losing my patience I yell “can you not arrange these last night! Why can’t you be perfect?” “Take this and the lunch box” I continue. “Bye amma” she waves.

Handling my toddler who doesn’t cooperate to sleep again is like a warfare! Battling for sometime, I finally give him the bottle and there I get ready. Thousand thoughts wandering around, I take my bike. “Appa, I will come early today” and “let’s see” it was my dad with sarcasm.

The next ten hours just flies overloaded with topics. I’m glad to have quite a number of tasks which are also a good mix of my passionate tasks and the regular tasks. Motivation talks over coffee, questioning myself if I’m also over expecting from my team – I see the long term goal and move with a smile.

“I love my job; I love my workplace; I love my people” – these were the reasons for my intrinsic energy, positivity and happiness. “I’m talking about depression” when I often said, my ex boss exclaimed “you are a store house of energy and positivity. How would you address depression”. This was not the first comment I received but many!

After a long day at work, I never felt tired as I know the days when I questioned myself “Will I be able to complete my studies? Will I be able to work? Will I live again?” The untold miseries lie within myself as a long story too.

“I will go home early” and those who know me laugh. “Isn’t it enough of work. Can you not be satisfied?” – it was my dad. “Can you focus on kids? Can we take them with us?” – it was my mom. However they are the pillars in my life because of whom I’m what I am today. “Pranavvvv” as I enter my home, he is glad I’m back and smiles. How many times have I yearned that he runs to me and jumps like other toddlers. It was not his mistake, probably mine. He hardly saw me for hours and my expectation that he jumps isn’t right! It’s an untold feeling of a mom!

“Dear Subha, can you please let us know if you can be a chief guest and speaker in our reading week” – this was an honour I received. I had to politely decline although my adrenaline was high just because I had a commitment at work. My passionate writing brought me not to heights but just made me glad!

“I committed and so I need to travel” – no one would’ve forced had I declined. But I still did just for the words I gave – yes, an assignment with six months baby in my womb. I was happy and reassured when I saw him in the big screens during my business trip.

Hopes for the bright days ahead; hopes to make a big career sometime; hopes to live my passion! Guilt of a working mother; Guilt of not a good daughter; Guilt of not an active partner – yet I smile!

Questions of what I’ve made; questions of what I’ve achieved; questions of where I’m going – no answers had I!

Sometimes it’s just the frustration of searching for my WHY! Sometimes it’s just the feeling of being lost! Sometimes it’s just the blankness of my mind.

I smile with a heavy heart and tears roll down my cheeks. It’s a mixed emotion of having won and lost! It’s a mixed emotion of having lived and died! It’s a mixed emotion of having smiled and cried!

“Wake up! Come what may! Move with a smile” – it’s my inner conscience!

The days of treatment, hospitalisation and dark phases of my 15-20 made me a different person. My goal was to work and make a career which I did not believe would happen back then. That’s my inner motivation that makes me smile! Despite all the challenges and rough seas. Despite the guilt of a woman inside me! Despite the times I felt I haven’t achieved my target yet.

My toddler takes his chair, puts in on the sofa and climbs. He couldn’t reach his target and makes grinning sounds. He gets down and moves it further – each time he finds another way. Finally there he is, reaching his target and cackling his success. “Amma.. amma.. amma.. ” I get emotional to see him teaching me!

My battle still continues but I will move on further with the lessons learnt from my son!

The Angry Indian

“Shh shh.. Shanmuga Kaapathappa” (Lord Muruga, help us) – my 85 year old grandpa was often chanting. He was getting restless at night and also worried a lot. Most of the times he wasn’t sleeping. “What’s happening with you?” “I’m afraid, I’m afraid” – he often stated. We discussed within our family and finally decided to take him for a counselling session.

Since I had a close connection with a psychiatrist, I took him there and explained the scenario. After quite a number of questions, my grandpa spoke up – “Sir, I’m afraid the society is losing its culture. I was a small businessman in a little town and had hand written notes for everything. I saved little by little and also sent all details to the bank. I’m proud about my wife as she is a confident and educated person. She was the pillar of my family and brought up my siblings and kids. All my kids are settled and grandkids too. But when I read news and watch TV, I’m afraid the world is changing. People are claiming falsely and cheating banks. My friend told that a urad dhal business man put up few sacks of dhal and other sacks of mud and got huge loan from bank. People are not true. I’m afraid my generation is over and there is no one left to save the values.” He touched my heart and tears rolled down my cheeks.

After some advice from the doctor, we came home. My grandpa was talking about his good old times and the ethics while we came back home.

My dad who ran a small scale business was no different to my grandpa. Every small account was written in his notebook and taken to the auditor. While he was in his transport business long time ago, people mocked him stating “everyone takes more money home and he’s the one spending on maintenance and taxes”. When he lost a big time in business, people were amazed by the way he was clearing the debts without cheating even a rupee. “Ethical values should not be lost but money can” was his advice to us always.

“Never speak ill of anyone. Always be truthful. Life can be lived even with the smallest earning. God has given us life and we need to understand that happiness can be achieved with all standards of living” – mom always taught us. Amidst all fights and financial situation, we grew up as a loving family with strong ethics.

When I was new to my first job and called my mom, my dad would get the phone and tell me “Isn’t it your office time? Aren’t you supposed to work. You can talk to us later”. While I discuss about uncomfortable topics at work, mom would only say “Time would come when it has to. Just be straight forward and speak your heart”.

We were taught what hospitality is. We learnt to greet everyone, be it a janitor or a principal. We were taught to call our maids as “Akka” which meant sister. Mom never discriminated anyone but taught us to treat everyone with love and respect.

“Never mock anyone. You do not know what others go through. Everyone has their struggles in life and hence respect them equally. Never pull down anyone for you do not know how it hurts unknowingly. If you do a mistake and you know it, apologise and make sure you don’t do it again” mom reminded us many times. She told us her childhood stories, how people treated and helped each other.

As we grew up it sometimes became hard for us to be a part of the changing society. My sister couldn’t accept even a small dishonest act elsewhere. She spoke up openly and a perception was built upon her as an “arrogant person”. She quit her job due to personal reasons too. Although a lot of perceptions were built upon her, she never lost her ethics and honesty.

It was similar to my brother too. He often told us about incidents in his personal and professional life but we just move on. He relates to unethical activities happening today in India but also fondly tells us about the ethical experiences.

I’m genuinely happy for someone when they grow up; I’m definitely angry when someone lies – be it work or home; I’m caring for people around – be it a janitor or an MD! – finally, it’s all moms lessons!

My cousin Siva often gets frustrated and annoyed and asks me “aren’t we unfit to live in this world. Isn’t it our parents mistake to have grown us like this? We cannot make great careers or a progressing life!” I just tell him “our actions just define who we are and be proud of this”.

My juniors at work sometimes laugh at me calling me “a person from Jurassic era” and sometimes they told me “your kind of people are extinct” – I don’t answer but only keep living my way!

During my client visits, the hospitality shown and results demonstrated were taken as “simply a show off or buttering” by other teams. I was worried – not for getting such a perception but for them losing the Indian culture and tradition. We have “hospitality” deeply rooted in our culture and that’s exactly what we showed. I was worried for the culture of seeing the good in each other has disappeared in today’s generation. I was worried for the negative thoughts of people who probably thought things could be achieved just by pleasing someone or faking up things.

I was worried for people lost the tradition of learning from each other which was taught in Gurukula in India. “When there is good, learn from each other” – wasn’t this the motto in our schools for having groups. “Affirmations” – wasn’t this followed in our schools to come up and talk well of each other.

“India is my country and all Indians are my brothers and sisters. I love my country. I’m proud of its rich and varied heritage” – did we not take a pledge every morning? Did we not learn to accept the differences and appreciate our diversity?

“I shall always strive to be worthy of it. I shall give my parents, teachers and all elders respect and treat everyone with courtesy” – Weren’t we taught to treat everyone equally, with respect and care, without any differentiation of caste, creed, culture, social status, nationality or language?

“To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion. In their well being and prosperity alone, lies my happiness” – weren’t we taught to be genuinely be happy for each other’s prosperity and wellness? When did the concept of enmity, hatred, competition come to us?

My grandpa is worried about losing the culture and ethical values and there are still some of us who strive to bring it up. I’m not sure if we will be successful in this journey but failures are not going to change us.

I’m angry when someone calls India corrupted; I’m angry when someone calls India an unethical country; I’m angry when someone calls India a deceiving country; I’m angry when someone calls India a dishonest country.

The angry Indian in me cannot change anything. I will only continue being the old schooled, Jurassic age person with my hospitality, culture, care and honesty. India doesn’t become good or bad – it just depends on how you want to shape its future!

The Blue Car

9pm – Busy madiwala. I was waiting for my bus to native for a family function. After a long time I was leaving my kids and going for just a day. A blue car crossed me swiftly and my memories walked down the lane.

“Hello, this is Subha” my first conversation with a new colleague during my shadow phase over a Skype call. “I’m Arun” he introduced himself. After a few calls I met him too. Our first project discussions, roadmap and strategies made us good friends over a period of time too. We had a good working mindset and we also drove together to office in his blue car many times.

The blue car has heard and witnessed our Project discussions, our experiences, funny incidents, ups and downs, arguments in meetings, plan realignment, risk discussions, previous job roles, future roadmaps, our mentors, our learnings, our good times, our not so good times, Shirdi Sai, personal lessons learnt, gender differences and mindset, grooming ourselves and much more meaningful conversations.

I often discuss work related topics with my brother and he explains his perspective which used to be rational and different. Over a period of time I felt the approach from Arun was no different to my brother and I felt comfortable and home like speaking to my brother.

Mom gave me two Rs per day when I was a child to buy chocolates or stationery. Every June I’d put aside one rupee per day and try to find a lovely designer pen for my brother for his birthday. This habit still continues now and I gift a pen to someone who is as close as a sibling to me. The matte Parker was my favourite one and wished Arun good luck with this!

Over few months things changed drastically and for no reason we moved apart. I had no clue what was going on too. Only hint I had was maybe my anxiety about work and worrying queries made him leave.

While I felt quite hurt, I remembered my mentor Christoph’s words. At times certain people enter our lives as friends or guides or mentors and this period gets over after you had quite good learnings from them. It appears to end without reason but it simply ends because you’re now mentored and just need to move on.

Maybe our discussions and learnings from each other was just over. His rational answers for different situations still remains fresh in my heart. I’ve become a stronger person than what I was. Probably this was also meant to teach me that nothing lasts longer in life.

I was a very different person who didn’t have friends at work. No one even knew my personal life at work. Probably this was an experience to teach me that I still have an emotional side of me that I need to work on. Maybe a rejection at work is needed to make me understand how to deal with a lost friend. Maybe a lesson is needed to get comfortable with the uncomfortable by just having a balance between friends and colleagues.

As the blue car slowed down in front of me, I had a hope that someone calls me out “hey Subha, let’s go” – maybe that day arrives once more in life – Maybe not. But the endless meaningful conversations and respect will still live within me!

Once a friend, always a friend – the blue car moved on causing smile with tears!

“Madam, your bus is here” the coordinator broke my thoughts!

The countdown

“20 days to go” started the note. It was a corner of the black board that my mom used to teach her students. After pleading I got some space and wrote this down. Everyday, I’d wipe it out and subtract one. When it reached single digit, my happiness knew no bounds. The eight year old me was jumping here and there. No time to find a duster, I wiped it with my little hands and wiped the sweat of my forehead with the same hands to Color myself with the chalk dust. That was the count down to the biggest day of the year – DEEPAVALI!

Fifteen days before the festival, mom plans the budget for the clothes and we rush around Sekar emporium to buy the colours of our choice. “Pink, pink .. yellow yellow” I’d scream and “brown or grey” my sisters choice. “Pavadai (our traditional dress) or frock?” “Midi” we giggle. “Parrys corner” flocked with shops for crackers and we walked inch by inch enjoying the crowd and sun too. The day would end with a light tiffin in Saravana Bhavan or Brindavan with our favourite onion dosa too. “What a day!”

“Amma, how many days for Pongal?” I’d question to keep in mind the next big shopping of clothes. “This year is Special. Two dresses each and one with Kanchipuram silk” when mom announced, my sister and I were flying. “Green silk with pink border” – remains close to my heart and I preserved it to show it to my daughter too.

Mom returning from school tired yet started preparing yummy Kara sev and adhirasam which was typical for the festival. Two days before the great day, our house was spread with aroma of sweets and savouries. Each container had one delicacy and there was no space in the almirah in that little kitchen anymore.

The big day appeared to be the big finale. Oil bath followed by rituals to the Gods. Our new dresses were the super heroes of the day and had all corners decorated with a pinch of turmeric. After a brunch with wide spread of vadas, idly and snacks, we were all set to wear our new clothes we received from our parents with love. A tradition of joining hands and wishing our parents with new clothes and they giving us a ten rupee note in return as a blessing!

I was the delivery girl serving delicacies and two pieces of crackers to every neighbors home. With atleast ten baskets I roamed to finish my job. Some returned wishes and some sweets too. Chitra, my bestie and I would roam floor to floor to proudly show our new clothes and the delicacies mom prepared.

Evenings were fun at the streets with colourful sparkles, mercury and snakes too. Flower pots were touching the skies according to us. Ground chakras swirled round and round and our brothers scared us that they’d hit our foot! Screaming us moved to all corners of the little streets.

“Amma, when is Deepavali?” it was my daughter. Although she did have some excitement, I could sense that it was definitely not what junior Subha experienced. What exactly is missing? I pondered. Deep thoughts within me.

“Great Indian Festival” announced the TV; “Wednesday deals” read the paper; “Pay day Festival” mentioned the Ad; “Red Sale – refill your wardrobe” said the email. On all possible corners, we’re targeted by shopping Ads and sale. Without realising that every 30% discount is not a discount but a 70% expenditure at an unnecessary time, we get tempted and restock our houses.

“No cooking day” “Jolly day” “Happy hours” “Home food delivered with love” says many more Apps and online websites. Restaurant food is advertised in the name of home food and without realising why do we need to buy home food, we just become habituated that one day home food becomes a special food!

“No standing in queues, no sweating in crowded buses, no waiting at the counters” is our everyday life. “Has your tava got old – time to exchange it” the ad had made us forget the stories of our ancestral vessels that stand sturdy even today. “Shopping is just another routine” we forget the joy of waiting and receiving!

Everything being available at the tap of a button has not only made our lives easy but also made us forget the excitement in every little thing we experienced as a child.

Many parents say “I don’t want my child to struggle like I did” forgetting that the child is losing the excitement and enthusiasm as they get instantly gratified by getting what they want. We’re only creating a generation of impatient, sensitive kids who are unable to wait for their turn in life. This leads to increase in anxiety and restlessness at every stage in life.

“Harshu this is the first pure silk pavadai with real silver jari that I got for a special Diwali” I showed my daughter after twenty five years now and she was amazed to see the shining dress.

The thrill of waiting for a new dress, imagining the Color and design without looking at thousands of patterns to choose from; the experience of walking to multiple stores to touch and feel the crackers; the pain in the hands with happiness in the hearts while carrying the shopped goodies; the dumb box that opened its mouth to the old ten rupee note that our parents gave for the greeting with the new dress; the server anna serving hot sambar on banana leaf and we waiting for months to get the taste of a restaurant tickle our mouths; – none of these can be replaced by the easy clicks we do and shop today.

Trying my best to give the countdown experience to my kids – I wait for the day when they come to me with their hands filled with the dust of the chalks! My countdown begins…

Rewinding the little writer

“Expert talk on writing” to the little kids of grades 1,2 and 3. After a couple of rigorous weeks talking about Depression, Anxiety and suicide prevention in University, Institutes and online forums, this was a new invite. “Well, this is going to be a different genre altogether. Let me try this too” my mind smiled.

“Good afternoon ma’am” I greeted the co-ordinator who made me comfortable. With a casual talk about dealing with children, we waited for the little ones. Like a swarm of bees, there they buzzed while entering. Smiling faces moved energetically making quite some noise. In no time the auditorium was filled with 560 students. The buzzing sound didn’t calm down still – “will you be able to engage this energetic group” I asked myself with a smile.

“Children, bubbles on the mouth” – the kids innocently gobbled some bubbles and there was still some noise. “How do we hear noise when all of you are having bubbles on your mouths?” as the teacher questioned “walls are making the sounds ma’am” some cute out of the box thinkers voices came out. I couldn’t control my laughter but also appreciated the presence of mind.

“Good afternoon, little writers” I started and there was a loud roar dragging “Goooodddddd Afterrrrrrrnooooooooooon maaaaaaaaaaaaaaam” – I didn’t have to ask for a repeat like how I had to do in colleges or even corporates. The energy level was simply awesome. I started with a display of my first certificate for writing in my fourth standard and also my book published recently. I spoke about my first writing themed trees and the imagination. It remains fresh in my mind and I went back to my fourth standard by now. There were curiosity overloaded with questions and suggestions of usefulness of trees from the tiny tots.

I asked them to close their eyes for a while and started with a situation to make them imagine. “A thick, dense forest – you’re hungry and tired – you walk and walk and walk – there you see a lovely castle! Eager to reach it, you run around faster – there you are. You touch it – a spongy soft castle made of cake. You enter to see cakes and cakes all around of all colours – blue, pink and yellow. Touch the walls. Do you feel spongy?” They answered with a loud “Yesssssssss. So soft!”

“The fans and lights are made of Cadbury gems of all colours” – “wow!! So colourful” said some voices. “I love gems” others – “so sweet and tasty” some more cute voices. “You taste the spongy cake walls” – “They are tasty” someone spoke aloud. “There you see a giant teddy bear shaking hands” – “he is spongy too.. he’s my friend” the tiny tots were deep into the story by now.

“Ice creams of all flavours are hanging” – “Ma’am, I see it like the one I ate yesterday” it was a naughty boy. Some even twisted and swirled their tongues with their eyes still closed. “Can you give me some cakes” it was the teddy. “Ohhhhhh” voices again. “He’s your friend right? Can you not give some to him?” before I even finished “Ma’am, sharing is caring ma’am. I will give Ma’am” “me too ma’am” “me too ma’am” – many joined the club.

We went further and I could see that the kids were really involved and into the situation now. They started making different sounds and expressions suiting the situation in the story as I narrated.

As I continued, I spoke about identifying three words concept in every imagination and bringing it to life by adding three expressions in three statements. To my surprise, they started writing down and few even came in front without hesitation to show me what they have written. I could see proud faces with gentle smile and passion.

“Imagination is the strength of a writer” – I told them to change the bed time story from mama to story from kids to mama and papa every night. They started coming up with stories immediately. It took me a while to pacify their energies.

As I ended my session, they loudly said “thank you” and clapped. As they dispersed, some came out of the line and asked for my autograph. I was moved. They wrote down my name and the book title too – how thoughtful of such little kids from grades 1,2 and 3!

A little boy walked up to me and said “ma’am, I have a pocket notebook like what you asked to keep. I write my own story” – another little girl came up to me to show the story that she had written based on the imaginary situation I narrated. “Ma’am, the cake castle was so nice. I feel like I tasted it” teeth all around! A boy with cute dimple asked “Ma’am, can I give a HiFive” and started and from then I gave over 200 HiFives – each one was stronger on its own! What an energy! My hands needed more strength!

The buzzing bees were moving towards their trees. I had to part with half my mind given to them.

As I boarded the auto, thousands of thoughts ran across my mind. “Did I notice that the tone of my voice changed while I spoke to them? How expressive I became without even realising! Each narration was with number of adjectives and sounds. Isn’t this what I’ve been missing? The lovely emotions and the child within me!”

Within us there reside tiny tots who just run around trees, touch the water, feel the air and ready to get dirty in the mud. Every once a while, we need to bring them out to make ourselves fresh. Although corporates heavily talk about “out of the box thinking and innovation”, we will never be successful unless we bring the inner child in ourselves out.

What did the tiny tots teach me today? Even while the whole world is rushing, don’t lose your energy and passion. While few amongst five hundred got a chance to show their books, the others still didn’t lose their energy but raised hands and books. While the first change maker started his HiFive, there was noise and laughter but then it became the culture. While they closed their eyes, they did really travel into deep imagination and came up with new ideas!

“An expert talk from a writer to our tiny tots” turned out to be an “expert lesson from the little creative champs to this grown up adult” – thank you dear children!

A few hours worth of strong lessons for life. Thank you CMR National Public School!

The Forgotten Key

2:30 pm – the sun in Chennai had some mercy on me. I boarded the bus and took my seat. My own little world for few hours again. I gazed outside the window but my mind was wandering over the session on Depression that I took for the students a couple of days back. I was in deep thoughts.

Little did I notice that it was half past six and I reached Krishnagiri toll already. The sun seemed to have lost his charm and was about to sleep. The aroma of coffee tickled my senses and picking a cup, I was thinking about the tasks for the next day.

“Next few evenings maybe boring without kids” I told myself as I was returning from Chennai to Bangalore leaving the kids to my mom. Time flew and it was 8 pm and I got down in Silk Board.

The rain droplets wanted to kiss my cheeks before they touched the ground. Slowly they were competing one after the other and I was walking down the lane. I took a bus towards Hebbal and played my favourite playlist. Chilly breeze, wet hair, melody of Maestro Ilayaraja – my loneliness was turning into a solitude.

I looked for my house keys to see they were missing – “oops, I had forgotten!” – I called my husband to get a text “In a meeting; call you later”. “When will you be back home” I sent a text. “Maybe 10” he replied.

My watch was creeping slowly to show it was 8:20 pm. “Sir, Manyata tech park” I extended my ticket. Traffic was quite heavier than usual. I was annoyed at first. I shut the windows down and looked outside.

The wipers seemed to battle with the continuous downpour – they were furious at performing their best cleaning the glasses! – What a force! I awed. Isn’t this what we need in life inspite of all tough times?

The big Ganesha looked blurry from the window. He is usually bright and bold. But today he looked all crumpled. “I forgot I see him through the glasses of the window that got disturbed by the droplets. Isn’t it the same when we set a prejudice on people by getting influenced by seeing through something? Isn’t it we who are seeing through disturbed glasses under other influences but blame it on poor Ganesha for being crumpled?”

“The wheels on the road go round and round” Pranav’s favourite rhyme played in my ears as I saw vehicles moving merrily on the roads. The water had mud and all contamination was flowing from all directions. The wheels seemed to be calm. They just rowed over the contaminated water continuing their job and moving ahead. “There are lots of disturbances and negative feelings that may keep flowing. We just need to learn to keep our minds calm and move ahead to carry our people in right direction” I smiled.

I got over the skywalk near Manyata tech park. The escalator wasn’t working on either sides. They were covered with ropes across. “Hmm. Quite useless” before I could finish I saw the tired dogs sleeping over the faulty escalator. “Every little thing around us has a purpose. Even a faulty thing may be of some help to someone. Never underestimate anyone based on their situation” that was a slap on my face.

“Tring tring” – no answer. “P1 call” came the message. I walked inside Manyata to breathe the freshness of the wind, the green leaves, the dark night, penetration of the street lights. 45 mins of walk across D2 brought back lovely memories dated a decade back. “11 pm” my watch reminded.

As I was mesmerised, “hello” there came a voice who offered lift – my husband on his bike. Moving ahead towards home with the usual P1 talks and the clients reaction reminded me some service management too.

“Food stalls closed for the night; still traffic roads; women on the streets; men rushing home; each sight had something to say. The world is definitely running and people are moving with a smile against all odds. It’s definitely not an easy journey for anyone. There are struggles and pain; there is a story behind everyone; appreciate people and move on;” I learnt.

“A little girl turning down the shutter of the tea stall with her dad; the little boy arranging bananas at the counter of a small eatery; the tired swiggy boys fully drenched waiting outside the closing restaurant pleading the waiter to get the food soon” touched my heart.

I was glad that the forgotten key imparted hundreds of lessons in just one evening. “Appreciate humanity, value people around you” with tears I smile! Thanks to the forgotten key – my values aren’t lost!

Being Human

“Amma, just ten days for parents day” my daughter was excited. The count down was running every day at home and I assured her that we will definitely be there. “Anna, please stop here” I guided the auto driver and got down. Harshu’s energy was so high and she was so proud to take me to her school.

“Ma’am, do you want to register for Pictionary?” the student at the entrance warmly smiled. “Let’s try” we enrolled. He guided me to the event and also mentioned the time when it would start. As we walked further, we saw fathers and kids cooking without fire. It was an exclusive event for fathers – “Share the load. It’s not just a woman’s job” – was this the message the school wanted to share to their students? Lovely!

Sports with parents on one side and kids on the other. “Do not be afraid to compete with elders. You can do much more” yet another message. Students organising events with confidence. Their approach towards strangers, politeness, smile and warmth – learn to communicate and collaborate – this was the message.

Pictionary – while I drew a dog for a horse, my daughter still found it was “horse riding”. While every parent became a child, each child became a parent. Kids drawing with innovative ideas – “think out of the box. You don’t have to be perfect but just know to convey your message” – came out the flavour.

“Amma, let’s go to my class” she was excited. We walked across the floors and what I saw touched me. “Be a Buddy, not a bully” was the theme. Much needed message for this society. Lovely posters and paintings designed by students. Every class entrance had smileys and positive ways to greet including “shaking hands, hi five, fist bump” start the day with a greeting and a smile.

Every class had a section called “Affirmations” which encouraged children to appreciate each other. There were gratitude messages from kids for sharing pencils and books, for being friends, for helping and many more sweet messages. The act of acknowledging people was being taught in this school – it was deep.

Every class had a display of this strong message “Blowing out someone else’s candle does not make yours shine any brighter” – what a lovely theme that needs to be taught to children in this competitive era where each one becomes a predator hunting other humans just for their living!

“A picture speaks a thousand words” this was proved true. “A man stamping on another man was displayed made up with words of depression, anxiety, sadness, failures and many other negative emotions” – this is the state of the world today and I felt moved!

There were images and messages on how you should be a friend and not bully people. Each message had a different flavour and made very simple for kids to understand.

The highlight of this was a section which displayed “how I felt when I was bullied”. Kids had written little stories and incidents when they were bullied and how they felt. Isn’t this the first step towards expressing ourselves and our emotions openly? Isn’t this the need of the hour in our society where emotions, stress and mental health remains a taboo?

One step further was the counsellor room where the kids have a chance to talk openly to the counsellor when they don’t feel good. If this is encouraged in school, definitely the future generation will break the cages of letting out the feelings and emotions.

There were many other class activities, regular educational activities displayed but I was sure that a school teaching moral values would make great humans tomorrow.

I remembered my day started with Moral science classes in my Fatima school, Chennai. They taught us important lessons for life – “being humble, modest, friendly, honest, caring, sharing, empathic – makes you a human” and this is what I value.

“Whichever field my daughter chooses as her interest, whatever she achieves or fails and learns, I’d only be proud if she has great moral values. That makes her a human” I was assured that this school is making great humans for the future!

Hats off to CMR National Public School!