A Year of Changing Relationships Sunday, Dec 27 2009

As year 2009 draws to a close I can’t help but think of the various bonds that I have made and broken this year. It would be a usual occurrence but for the fact that  there have been just too many changes.

I started the year with wanting to get a divorce. From one my oldest friends from college. Known her for 13 years. A visit to her house, an acrimonious conversation with her parents (of all the people) involving my child – which is an extremely high involvement subject for me and not to be trifled with – was the cause. Of course, this just topped years of inexplicable behaviour on her part – she never believes anything I say, she rarely makes an effort to ask me what is up with my life, shows no sensitivity to what I may be going through, but does call intermittently to keep in touch and most especially when she is in some sort of crisis. I barely just managed to salvage this one – and of course she didn’t have a clue that this happened. We have now gone back to our old ways – and I just avoid visiting her when her Mom’s home.

I said a mental goodbye to another old friend – he was a colleague in my first job. That was 11 years ago. This was a sad one – since I seem to have just dropped off his radar. He did keep in touch in the initial years of my moving cities – and then it tapered off slowly to just calls on his and my birthday. Then it became a call, a week after my birthday – since he thought that was the date. And this year nothing. It has been 4 months since my last birthday. So goodbye, it is. It was nice while it lasted.

I got back in touch with a couple of friends from college. Known them for more than 13 years now. They have moved to Bangalore and hence the getting back in touch is part help needed and part let’s be friends again since we live so much closer to each other. I especially like one of them – we were good pals in college and also share the same birth date and so I am happy that he has moved here along with his family. Luckily his wife’s pretty sweet too and our kids are approximately the same age so that they can play together when we all get together.

I also got back in touch with another friend from college though he lives in Canada now. Also known him for 13 years. My brother moved with his family to the city where he lives and he was of great help in extending some useful info and moral support when they most needed. He also now makes an effort to call me once in a while which he hadn’t really been doing for the last 9 years that he has been out of the country.

A few surprise friendships were formed with spouses of people who are our friends. They turned out to be real nice people and it was easy to get along with them. Strange where one meets one’s next friend.

Members of the Park Moms Inc, P97 , S and I had a very good year sharing joys and frustrations of our respective kids, as well as discussions on wide and varied subjects. Since we all met almost every week day for the last almost 2 years we have developed a very nice relationship.  Sadly, this is also about to change. S moves to another country with her boys. And P97  moves to another locality an hour or so away with her girls. So everyday meetings are now at an end. Our kids will have to learn to do without seeing each other and we will have to make do with email, blog and phone. I guess it just won’t be the same. This too was real nice while it lasted. We say goodbye with a heavy heart.

Now as little p gets ready to start school next month, it will be her turn to form friendships – some of which hopefully will last her a lifetime.

Each year is about change. But I wish we were somehow able to retain friends through each year.

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Unemployable Sunday, Dec 27 2009

Lately, I decided that it is now time to end my sabbatical taken after little p was born – it being 2 years after the event now. This decision came after several soul-searching conversations with my better half where he communicated that he was worried that I am making myself unemployable by staying at home for so long after my delivery. Of course, I didn’t take kindly to this just criticism and felt all chastised and thought that my efforts at bringing up my child are being negated and how housewives should be paid since they handle such important portfolios and multiple ones at that. But I soon saw sense in what he was saying. However, contemplating getting back to the kind of gruelling schedule I used to have when I was working was not something I relished. But since I couldn’t  run unemployed for the rest of my life wasting time, education, earning capacity, attracting intellectual atrophy apart from the fact that little p starts school soon, I decided to test the waters.

I first tried my hand at shifting streams entirely and started writing and looking for openings related to content creation etc. The advantages are many – I can work flexi-time, from home, take on projects as per time availability and I love writing etc. Obviously no one considered me since I have no experience in the field. I also seem to lack the discipline to pursue this self motivated career by myself.  So clearly I needed to be in a job. And the only ones I was likely to get were in the field that I have qualification and experience in. To this end, I applied to various companies doing various things in the fields of marketing, events etc. for different roles.

Some statistics. I applied to a few companies – say 15 companies through job sites. None of them responded. But a few consultants who saw my resume called me asking if I would be keen on a particular opening. Out of say 8 calls that I received, 1 translated to an interview – which came to a nought from both sides. I guess the guy wasn’t sure about my being able to handle the work load since I was upfront about requiring flexibility of working hours. And I certainly wasn’t very sure that this was a professional set up – since he asked me straight off if I was comfortable wearing 2 hats and confessed candidly that his head of PR sometimes doubled up as head of advertising in front of clients even though he knew jack about advertising. Apart from which the loo was not really very clean. And there was no one in office except for the boy at the reception and a girl on a call in some remote corner. And this MD.

I also applied directly to 3 companies who are in the same field as I was in my last job. 2 translated to interviews. The first one was an hour-long interview in which the fellow spent about 50 minutes explaining how haphazardly they worked in the agency and how there are no set systems in their company and everyone works late since each department has to be babysat by the project manager since he is the sole owner of the project and hence accountable for its completion. No one else takes any responsibility. Wonderful, I thought. He asked me how I thought I will manage with a small child – to which i had to reply that I can’t possibly. Not any more.

Another version of the same conversation happened at the other interview – this time taken by a lady (my “vice president” – as per the receptionist) – who said that everyone there worked till 11pm since it was a very busy time and they were desperately short-staffed. So how would I be able to manage. I tried to ask her if the company can make a few adjustments in this style of working and I would make a few adjustments of my own – but I was cut short with “we can’t offer any flexibility – I am sorry. The industry is such.

I liked to think ( and I have often boasted about this to the spouse ) that the company I was with earlier will jump at the chance of offering me employment – but of course who wants to go back there. But I was soon corrected of this impression. Of course, they would “love” for me to come back but they are being very cautious about hires since the recession has not receded yet. In other words, no can do.

So here I am. And MBA from one of the top 10 institutes in the country (well all right – if you are nit picky, then my specialization was advertising and communications). Have worked for 9 years  in a couple of industries related to advertising and marketing – and I think most of the companies have been happy about the kind of contribution I have been able to make there – unable to get work at a suitable position today just because of the baggage I carry – that of a young family. Just because I would like to have a bit of a work-life balance. Just because I have a few less no. of hours to devote to work. Or maybe that’s not just it.

I have further systematically compounded my problem by making myself unacceptable to the really good companies – (though I have applied directly to them, having seen some relevant openings in their websites – they are not really my industry directly but the roles that they have vacancies for require the kind of experience that I have acquired.) – by shifting too many jobs and industries even though I started work in the country’s 3rd largest ad agency in the Mecca of commercial activity – Mumbai. I also took multiple breaks in my career – once for reasons of unemployment, once because I needed to travel abroad for a year and then for my kid. This must be why none of the companies i applied to through websites never responded to me or are unlikely to consider me for even an interview. Woooosh. Have made a hash of my resume. And my life, it looks like.

Will 2010 bring anything different? Or have I finished making the last of my big mistakes from which there is no scope of redemption?

Have I become completely unemployable?

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Disreputable Reading Habits Tuesday, Nov 17 2009

The most popular listed hobby in CVs which list “hobbies” or “other interests” is reading. And though I don’t really add it to my CV, I do admit that I have but one interest. Reading.  So much so that now I am almost ashamed of admitting it to anyone. I mean how clichéd can you get? I dread the question “so what do you do in your spare time?” I can hardly say, “I play the violin” or “I collect insects” or “I sketch”. Sigh. I wish I could. At least the last, since it has been my most recurring unfulfilled dream. Maybe someday.

So what I started writing about was reading and reading habits. Now usually I read anything I can lay my hands on. This excludes books on religion, philosophy, business and self-help. So have I excluded everything except trashy fiction? Probably. Well, it isn’t that I don’t at all read these genres. On occasion I have. Like I have read several Robin Sharma books – and some have been really nice. I have read a couple of Malcolm Gladwells (Blink and The Outliers) thanks to the better half who with the good intention of expanding my mind as well as catching hold of someone who can discuss the books he reads with him, recommends books to me on and off. I read some, I ditch some. But it is enough for him that there are at least a few that he and I have both read. Like Ken Follet’s Pillars of the Earth and its very large sequel World Without an End – both of which are stupendous reads, but still come under the genre of historical fiction. Then there are the Robert Ludlums and less often the John Grisham kind of novels. Of course, PG Wodehouse also figures as I have mentioned in a previous post of mine. I also read Reader’s Digest which my Dad lends me each month – and I read since he does. I do like it of course, but I’d never make the effort myself.

However, what I would make an effort to go, choose, buy, read with great interest, re-read, lend, recommend, consider myself an expert on and so on would be romance. Disappointed? Well I am. A little bit. But mostly, I am really happy to be reading romance of most kind except say historical. From the time I was in Class XII till date, i would have read hundreds if not thousands of romances popularly known as Mills and Boon or MB after the then publisher. Of course, now there are several publishers, umbrella brands, authors, series, etc. But they are all still known as MB. Second hand stores stock mile high piles of it – and sell it at Rs. 30/- for old books. They even take them back for Rs. 10/- since they always find a clientèle for it. Some of them even know enough to recommend books or authors and even stock certain authors since they are more popular – like Charlotte Lamb, Carole Mortimer, Penny Jordan and so on.

All books have a common thread – one exceptional looking man, one amazingly beautiful woman live in some country or city or town – which is described exhaustively. They usually do not get along or work with each other or are good friends or were previously married and the whole book revolves around how their current relationship develops from this point to when the guy proposes marriage to the girl and she joyfully accepts. Some books do have some variations – like they marry half way and then fall out and make up again or the woman is plain-looking and develops into a beauty with the guy’s help or due to a makeover to get his attention or the guy misunderstands the girl and talks rudely to her throughout the book until he finally realizes that here is a woman with a heart of gold or one breast or some other dark secret which she was hitherto unwilling to share and so on. Occasionally, they do have active careers which is discussed a bit – but mostly it is not really very important. Most books have at least a couple of “love scenes” so to speak and they are anywhere between harmless or graphic depending on the year in which the book was first published.

So why read it? When it is so predictable and repetitive? When you already know what is going to happen? When large parts of it is chauvinistic? When it seems that love is all about physical chemistry and looking good is the be all and end all of existence? Why indeed.

It’s rather simple. For me, its predictability is its strong point. I like happy endings specially when I am feeling low. At least I am assured of happy endings somewhere. I find it uplifting to read an MB.

Then, there is a possibility that the book will be full of easy and funny repartee between the two and it is good fun to read. The fact that the plot is not convoluted is also a big plus – I don’t have to concentrate very hard while reading an MB.

Apart from this it is interesting to learn about places and customs and careers about which it is difficult to know otherwise – one is hardly likely to pick up a book and read about Banff National Park or the life of a landscape artist or that of a high rise window cleaner etc.

The length of the book is also perfect – abut 180 pages – not too short to leave you feeling cheated and not too long to bore you.  One just digs into an MB and it finishes a couple of days or hours later depending on your reading speed and skipping ability.

It is probably the only book which I find hard to put down – whether I am eating or sleeping or going out or cooking or doing anything. I have sometimes read in the car in signals, in office at lunch break, late into the night well past my usual bed time, early mornings well before my usual getting-up time, in the loo, or in the kitchen while waiting for something to cook (with disastrous results I might add!) and at every conceivable time and place.

Even Benazir Bhutto had a study full of them. Or so the legend goes. And several 30 something friends and relatives have regularly borrowed MBs from me – enough for me to conclude that this is one genre which appeals to a spectrum of nationalities and ages (though not genders – one enduring memory is of a classmate – a boy – reading an MB out aloud at a local tea-shop where several of our classmates were having tea. We girls didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. But we were certainly embarrassed). It is really a huge industry the world over and fulfilling the secret dreams and desires of millions of women across the world. Now there are even Indian MB writers – writing books based in India.

Disreputable or not, romance as a genre is a sure shot best-seller. There are always going to be willing and happy readers somewhere in the world when the next romance comes out.

And I am one of them.

 

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A State Of Well-Being Saturday, Nov 14 2009

What a happy Saturday it was. After many many weekends – though for me a weekend and a weekday are only marginally different since the spouse carries all of the weight of gathering the nuts.

It started with my not waking up to my alarm (since I didn’t set any) after a decently early night (11 pm). Of course, I did wake up a couple of times to little p’s crying, but all in all, I got up from bed when I just couldn’t stay in any longer – at about 7.30 am. I usually hit the sack at midnight, read for half an hour, then try to sleep and am up at 6.20 am all groggy eyed and mostly do not get to have any rest through the day till the following midnight. Getting adequate sleep is so all important. I was so refreshed that first thing in the morning, I tackled some long pending cleaning and putting away which I had been totally avoiding for the past two weeks. And it was icing on the cake that husband dear pitched in.

Then there was little p. She slept till 9 (my theory: the week after any vaccination she behaves slightly differently than other times – sleeps more, eats a bit less, is a teeny-weeny bit less active) – which gave me time to finish all the morning stuff, enlist better half’s help for lunch preparation and take a bath before I had to be at her service.

I have been trying to get little p to start on toilet learning for about two weeks now – though actually, I can say that I started only a week ago since I had made some tactical errors which made progress well-nigh impossible. After a couple of disgusting accidents in the first two days (one of which was my fault for being on a call at the wrong moment), she has been responding beautifully to the incentive strategy so much so that the incentives have already dried out and the training seems to have remained. Of course, it is early days yet, and she is far from fully trained and safe, but the success rate has been a lot higher than I had anticipated. We don’t really have accidents – and though she has asked to go on her own initiative very few times, I do the asking at appropriate times and she obliges by peeing then and not in her pants. She also lets me know by actions when a big job needs to be taken care of. This is far more than I had hoped for in the first week. To top it all, in the last 2 days, she has turned in dry diapers after a night’s sleep, after a 4 hour outing, after an afternoon sleep and after a 3 hour and 1 hour outing. Which means that what is being produced is hitting the pot alone most of the time. I am aware that this rate may not continue and there will be accidents and some setbacks – but nothing can take away from the pleasure of an accident free day and evidence of a bladder stronger than mine apparently. Touch wood.

We went out this morning to buy some sundry knickknacks – shoes for little p for a winter trip to north, a couple of towels etc. We happened to step into Bata, a shop about which I have written in an earlier post, since I almost always want to look in when out buying footwear for anyone. What we saw for little p wasn’t quite there – and the better half in the meanwhile looked around. He soon found some black canvas shoes for himself ideal for our daily outing to the park and other nearby places. It cost Rs. 250/-. At that unbelievable price, it would have been a more hard-hearted fellow who would not have bought them. He soon found me similar shoes which were Rs. 199/- and we both happily stared at our feet while trying them on. We walked out of the shop with a bag – though we had come with no intention to buy anything for ourselves. Little p’s shoes were bought at another shop costing more than either of our shoes. Just the joy of having bought inexpensive things is hard to contain. And this run of ours continued for a while in the next shop we went to also.

Little p spied some balls hanging outside a shop – and as is her habit started chanting ball, ball, ball, ball – umpteen times. Even  a couple of times is enough to melt her indulgent dad and off he went to the shop amid protests from me, to buy a ball. I soon gave in when I found that a ball of decent size cost Rs. 30/-. Obviously not great quality – but not bad either. I also spied a set of garish looking plastic mobile phones hanging inside and asked the price. Rs. 25/-, I was told. These were flip open phones with a picture of a Barbie kind of doll and the phrase “Benign Girl” written on them. No prizes for guess which country produced them.  They played a disgusting sound-track when the buttons were pushed and light up a little antenna. There was a cord to hang it around the neck of a child. It was a sure shot purchase and we left the shop with very little out but lots in.

All through the way little p kept dialling someone’s number and talking to them. “ello, ello? ello thati” (hello, hello, hello paati) she kept going and laughing a little each time the phone would say a hello or play its song or light up. She also wanted to keep a tight hold of the ball at the same time. She looked so adorable with the phone in her ear and a smile on her face that our hearts warmed and we smiled so much that our jaws were aching by the time we reached home. Sometimes so much joy can be had for so little money.

Then after dinner little p watched half an hour of Barnie and his friends on TV (thanks to her Dad) – which must be the only thing anyone can watch standing up and dancing instead of passively sitting on a couch. While Barnie introduced various farm animals with lilting kid-friendly songs, an excited p ran up and down excitedly telling us what is being shown next – Maiii (goat), Bowww, Daaaaji (dog) and so on. She was probably more tired after watching TV than before for all the activity it afforded her. Made her tired enough to sleep off at bed time.

The day ended with little p and I making a pink and blue butterfly (which she calls a bee), a star (or a taa in p-parlance), and a face (mama or uncle as per p). with play doh and her dad reading out interesting titbits from a nutrition book he is currently crunching through.

Sigh…the state of well-being is hard to achieve but once it is here, it is like a warm hug.

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Happy Birthday, Dear Little p Saturday, Nov 7 2009

p turns 2 today!!! It is unbelievable that the ugly little thing the doctor showed me many moons ago is now a bona-fide pre-schooler – and not bad-looking either! (At least the baby center mails have said that they will call little p pre-schooler from now on. No more toddler for her. She toddles along just fine, thank you.)

What an eventful couple of years we spent p, my better half and I – with happiness, depression, joy, sadness, pride, embarrassment, worry, laughter, tears, anger, sympathy – all in equal measure. Truly having a child to bring up makes you really live through your emotions – no more vegetating in limbo – because you feel like it.

Yesterday, after another chaotic and accident filled morning with my newly started project (toilet learning), I was asking my mom today why do we ever have children when they give us so much trouble.

I know the answer to that one.

Because they make us come truly alive.

p in these two years has developed from an inert being interested only in feeding and sleeping to one who was keen on eating sitting up and crawling to one who stood up and walked and now only runs most of the time – to blabbering to almost talking to saying words clearly and picking up new ones each day to actively playing with her friends, her toys, her puzzles and is now the most cheerful and happy child anybody could wish to have. Of course, she is 2 with all the tantrums just beginning albeit at a reasonable level so far – but what the heck – why should she not get her due as any 2-year-old does. She will start school in a couple of months and then starts another important phase of her life.

For her birthday party later today, we have decorated the living room with balloons and streamers. We have also blown scores of smaller balloons for her and her friends to play with. An inflatable swimming pool has been set up to serve as a mini play zone. Her gift – a magic slate has been nicely gift wrapped with a bow (a word she has picked up recently) on top. Return gifts for her friends have been organized. She will wear new clothes in the morning – bought by her parents after careful selection. And for the party, her most dhinchak clothes – a gift from someone. If she doesn’t wear it today, I am never likely to take it out.

The menu for the kids has been finalized. It will be home made stuffed paneer tikka, mini medu vada, sweet chutney, mini pinwheel sanwiches (if I can possibly pull it off) and cake. To drink, there will be peach dream – again home-made – a concoction of peaches, orange squash and vanilla ice cream. And the cake will be black forest – certainly not home-made – little p will get her first taste of chocolate finally at the ripe old age of 2.   The cake will have a 2 written in as large a font as the size of the cake allows – it is the one number that little p knows and says frequently. The adults will get something to eat as well – but none of it will be home-made, sorry. The focus is only on p and her pals. And I hope she has a blast.

Happy Birthday my darling. May you live to be a 100. And may your kids give you as tough a time as you sometimes give me!!

And also the sheer joy that you always give me.

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Birthday Anxiety Saturday, Oct 31 2009

Yes, you don’t need to remind me that I have expounded enough on the subject in previous blogs (Happy Birthday and The Mother of All Birthday Parties) as well as in person at every opportunity I get. However, I can’t be blamed. It’s the birthday season. At least at my home.

Mine was last month. I am nearly at the top of the hill – soon to start the descent. I thought it only fitting that I should celebrate it with a bang. I did. One day before the D Day,I dunked my mobile phone into a pot full of dirty water at the sink (as in it popped out of my pocket since it hadn’t been fully put in) and one day after the day I realized that the credit card that I use most often was in fact, not in my wallet any more. Of course, I spent the night before and the night after my birthday in scurrying here and there trying to dry my phone, borrow a phone from an all-suffering neighbour-friend to receive the rush of birthday calls I was sure to get and then cancelling my card, asking for a new one, paying some amount for it and so on.

The birthday itself was fairly nice. Little p was dressed in pavadai though she didn’t realize it was my birthday or anything. We all went to a temple. On our way back we stopped at the photographer’s for passport photos of the little one for school forms (unbelievable then). She co-operated beautiful – like she mostly does. Lunch was at Mom’s – so i didn’t have to cook and dinner was out with all the family – so I didn’t have to cook again. I was given clothes by my parents and better half – all of which I had chosen. So there were no surprises. What I didn’t get were flowers or cake, my better half being a unique person who prefers not to buy plucked flowers unless they are to be offered to the lord or to spend 500 or more bucks on a cake which will be consumed by just two and half people and will be refrigerated for the better part of a week or even more. I was ok with the flowers. But the cake would have been a lovely surprise. Anyway I was turning 34. No sense in being nit picky.

I remember when we were first seeing each other, the gifts I bought for my to-be better half’s birthday were all wrong. A soft toy (he was not the type and truth be told I wasn’t either – I just wanted to be the type I guess), a large bar of chocolate( this I had thought could not go wrong – however, chocolates brought on a migraine for him), a reclining Ganesha – a very unusual looking one (he does not really hold Ganesha in much awe – who is also sadly over marketed. I mean I have seen Ganesha statues sitting and typing on a laptop, one getting ready to tee off with a golf club and so on). It was only when I bought a couple of plants and a watering spray did I seem to do the right thing. He loved those gifts. Since then, year has followed year and most of the gifts I have bought for him have been wrong whether I choose them or he does. A palm pilot, which was wasn’t convenient to enough to use, an i-mate mobile phone which was a battery guzzler as well as too bulky to keep in his pocket and so on the list goes. This year I got smart. I bought him a shirt which I liked in a style that he usually wore, but a brand which he would have dismissed as being too expensive for casual wear. He loved it. He wears it. Phew. (Needless to add he knows exactly what to buy for me each year. Maybe I am easy to please – but more likely he is a very good shopper.)

So anticipation of birthdays always brings a sense of trepidation, a few pitter patters in the heart region. You want to surprise the person – yet you don’t know what they need, what they want, whether to buy what they need or what they want, how they will like what you bought for them and so on. You want to take them out for dinner yet, you feel they may like it if you make the effort to make a special dinner at home for them. You want to do a small cake cutting, but don’t know how it may be welcomed – or not welcomed. For kids it is even tougher – to do a party or not, call her friends or yours who have kids or both? Big crowd or small – let’s face it adults take up precious running around space of kids. Fancy clothes or hardy clothes for the birthday child? Personalized or at least age appropriate return gifts or general stuff? What about a birthday gift since she is hardly old enough to know what a birthday gift is?

Little p turns 2 next Saturday and I am in a state of jitters just thinking about it. Right now, I am only thinking about food though. I like to make some snacks at home at least for the little tykes – something not totally high on salt or sugar or fried but at least partly nutritious and still tasty. But this year I seem to be unable to come up with any good ideas. A couple of trials of some finger foods have come out disastrously. Despite the fact that I have help from a couple of friends from the Park Mom’s group. Anyway they were deep-fried and the question is – Is home-made junk better in any way than that bought in a shop? I managed fine last year with a couple of sandwiches with interesting fillings – which were difficult to be classified as junk, but this year I have almost decided to buy something off a shop.  Which is not the end of the world – but it really is hard for me to see kids eating junk under my roof. At least I can probably make some interesting juice and fruit custard to offset the other junk I’ll dish up.

Anyway, what I am planning is to just relax and chill – decorate the place with lots of balloons which are my little p’s very favourite, provide the best possible fare but not too elaborate – nobody wants much food at tea time – and watch the kids have fun since most of them are little p’s friends. P is turning 2 already! It seems like yesterday when I spent a lonely night at the hospital waiting for her to arrive. Time does fly. And birthdays loom large.

Should I just google a bit for more recipes? There is some time left…

Sigh. Birthdays.

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Total Disappointment Friday, Oct 30 2009

This is a mall review. Uninterested parties may skip. Meant purely to vent as well as hope that some well-meaning soul at Total Mall will read this, take note and do something.

For the past several months I have zeroed in on Total Mall for all my monthly grocery needs. I have managed to make a system such that I buy groceries once a month in the first week and then buy just fresh produce every week or as required. The prices are usually pretty good – there are several deals and discounts, there is parking and everything is available under one single roof. There is even pulses, rice. wheat etc. available loose like they sell in local kirana shops – the prices of these are particularly low and the quality is also usually ok. Of course, there is always a bit of chaff or other pulses mixed – but in very small quantity. So Total it was. Month after month after month. Lately I am not so sure. Either I have been chosen as the unlucky person who has had problems with them or their service has deteriorated immensely. Let me explain.

A couple of months ago I bought pulses as I usually do. But the cooked dish emanated some unpleasant odour. I thought it was a suspect coconut in the dish and promptly emptied it down the garbage bin along with the coconut. However, another dish using both tamarind and toor dal was made the next day and the same smell emanated. When I opened the jars of both to smell them, it was immediately clear that toor dal was the culprit. It had probably become wet and then was dried or some rat must have done some unmentionable activities in the dal – whatever, the stench was fairly unbearable. I had to literally go out and buy another kilo from a nearby shop, since this dal is the main ingredient in most of the dishes we make, prices notwithstanding. Now I am unsure of where to take it back, whether to do so or just simmer at home. I had clearly been had.

Then last month I bought all my regular stuff (I hadn’t opened the toor dal from the previous month – so I went again). I was billing when the girl doing my bill was busy making plans for lunch with a chap standing nearby who was not in uniform and so I assume not an employee. They were discussing what to order, when to do it, where they will eat, who will pay and also exchanging some money. All talk was in Tamil in the mistaken belief that I was unfamiliar with the tongue. But all this was really slowing my billing – and I usually have very cut to cut schedules. My little p’s lunch time was fast approaching and my stomach had started growling and this girl was taking all the time in the world to finish my billing. I finally asked her to hurry up. The person bagging also finished and i reached home to my daughter and lunch. After putting her to bed, I came out to look for the pack which had diapers – to find it missing. It slowly dawned on me that one whole bag of mine was missing which had 5 packs of 28 diapers each (these are huge), a big Henko washing powder box etc.

I called Total in panic – after all the bag had things worth 2k out of the 3k that I had spent – and was told after some delay and a few checks that my bag was at the help desk and I could come and collect it. Clearly, the bagger had forgotten to put it in my cart. I guess I should have known that with all the distractions they are bound to make a mistake. I went trudging back the following day and fortunately got my stuff. But how could such an error happen? It was a very large bag. I guess I should have also kept an eagle eye on it. But when I have bought about 55 items, it is tough to keep track of all of them.

Yesterday, I went to a different Total since this was on the way back from my daughter’s school-to-be. As usual I shopped for the month and bought a few extra things. When I went to collect the free items, I was handed a couple of sachets of Cif cream. I asked about some wipes I had been promised with a toilet roll and I was informed that it was in the pack itself. In fact the roll was sold to me by citing this offer of free wipes worth Rs. 25/-. However, I got home to find no wipes anywhere. I could not obviously go back, spending petrol money and time and effort for Rs. 25/- wipes, but the feeling of being unnecessarily cheated due to carelessness and inefficiency has not gone.

To top it all, I opened my packs to find the naphthalene balls that I had bought packed in with the cooking oil, pulses (which I bought in sealed packets this time) etc. Any basic bagger knows that non-food items are bagged separately for hygiene reasons. And this was plain toxic. I was shocked at their carelessness!

Then there are the visits to the toilet. I usually avoid visiting the toilet in Total ever since I first stepped in one over a year ago. It had 3 toilets, 2 were functioning and there were 6 housekeeping people sitting inside doing nothing but watching people come and go. They were reasonably clean then. Lately, most of the sensor taps don’t work, there is never any soap, toilet rolls or paper towels, the hand dryer does not work and at least one or two of the toilets are not operational at any given time. This is surprising given that these days almost all malls invest in public conveniences at the very least. What really disgusted me was when I went into the loo most reluctantly yesterday to wash my hands prior to feeding my kid there were a couple housekeeping ladies sitting in one corner. When I asked for soap, they said there was none. When I used my own  paper soap and tried to use a tap, they watched the fun for a few seconds before informing me that only the middle tap worked. The middle tap was distinguished  by the fact that there was a large water (I hope) puddle bang in front of it. I stood on my toes in the middle of the puddle and washed my hands and scurried off hoping I will not slip and fall. Thank the Lord I did not. But the apathy of the people on duty was really appalling. Maybe they were not on duty…maybe it was their lunch break. But whatever, someone should be looking at these things all the time. Or is that too much to expect?

All in all I am totally disappointed and disenchanted with my decision to make Total my shopping destination each month. Will I go back? I am not sure. Maybe I won’t. Or maybe I will due to force of habit. But if I do, I’ll make sure that I have an extra pair of eyes, ears, nose and a very strong bladder.

 

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I just can’t keep up Friday, Oct 9 2009

They say that in the first few years of their lives, children grow mentally and physically at unbelievable rates. I am finding out every day. In an earlier post I had mentioned that Little p had started actually saying clear words at 22 months – I remember even counting some 20 or so and feeling very happy and proud. But now, she is in an amazing phase of life. About 3 new words a day that we can understand and despite being a stay at home mom, even I am missing a few of them when they come out. Life’s a roller coaster with her.

In the last month she has got moooom (moon), aau (alu – as in potato), oass (oats – her evening snack), neeeeee (nai – that is ghee in Tamil – which is requested with every meal risking high cholesterol), shee you (to be followed after bye), b’bye (as a variation), chacha (her uncle), chachi (his wife – her aunt), taar (star), meeaam (a cat’s meow), maaiin (a goat’s plaintive cry – and she does sound very plaintive), aathi (hindi for elephant), aamay (aamai – tortoise in Tamil), aanni (aanai – elephant in Tamil), orse (horse), veena (vendam – don’t want), doocha (dosa or even roti or anything resembling dosa) – this becomes a chant at breakfast time – doo-cha, doo-cha, doo-cha , thanni (water – this i haven’t yet heard – S of the B&B fame said little p asked for water on two successive days at her place by pointing and using this word, opfice (office – where her dad has gone when she can’t find him on waking up in the mornings, also something I haven’t yet heard first hand but had it reported by the better half), paati (grandmom – long awaited by both her grand moms.), daagy or daady(doggy – after months of saying bhoo at every given opportunity), poooo (flower in Tamil), daaas (dance – which she loves to practice with or without music) – and I am sure there are many that I am forgetting.

She has also started getting a few concepts – like realizing when something is spicy. She says “kaalal” (kaaram – meaning hot, as in spicy hot) in a very sorry tone when I give her something that is more spicy than she can handle. Something else that I’ve noticed she’s understood now is the concept of you do this, then we can do that. First eat,  then we can watch TV – not only does she understand this unlike days of yore when it would have sounded like a simple no to her, but she also remembers that this was promised to her and comes running out of the bathroom after washing her hands post dinner and sits down in her favourite chair ready for her treat. .

She can now give an actual kissie on our cheek apart from a flying kissie. She has also got the hang of singing along  - well not really the proper words but she knows  that one sentence follows the next and then it all ends in a particular chorus. Like “The ants were marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah, the ants were marching one by one and a little one stopped to suck his thumb, and the ants went down into the ground to get out of the rain, boom boom boom”. She will use all sorts of made up words to sing this while marching with just one leg – guess she can’t co-ordinate both yet – not for marching anyway – and ends with ‘mum, mum, mum’ (boom boom boom). So I am guessing she is trying to copy the song. She even sang this song all the way to the park the day she understood how a song goes.

Then today at dinner, when she was halfway done, she looked at me and shook her finger and said “no”. We haven’t really used the word too often unless she is doing something which could be dangerous for her – like pulling a mug filled with hot tea from the kitchen counter. And that hasn’t happened in some time. So I wonder how she suddenly remembered to shake her finger at me and say no. Then recently when she pointed to a tin of biscuits just before her lunch, my mom said no! in a very firm tone. Little p sometimes imagines that biscuits are called no – and now points to the tin and says no! no! assuming we will understand better what she is asking for.

What a remarkable, fulfilling and joyous phase of childhood this is! I am loving it (to borrow a line from an old client of mine).

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A Class Apart Tuesday, Sep 22 2009

I think I must soon get back to writing funny posts – or at least informative ones – in which my readers can get an idea of what’s going on – a sort of mail that conveys all happenings. But for this post I’ll stick as usual to a train of thought that recurs time and again in my mind in a period of time – just like most of my posts.

It all began with tea-cups.

But I am getting ahead of myself here. Let me go back to the start. We are getting our house renovated – actually building new wardrobes and earmarking a room for little p in the precious little space we have. Needless to add, it is a headache in so many ways – the head carpenter cum contractor did not show up for the first few days, he then showed up with one other carpenter, everything moved slowly, time was lost in a day of power cut, festivals, physiological needs (like eating at 5.45pm to break a day long fast) and hence work for the day getting over early, the deadline for a room approaching nearer due to the start of a big festival – and the workers then staying on till midnight, even 1 am on one day to finish the job, phew. The list is endless. And through it all someone has to be home all the time – so no more running errands or going for a walk or an outing without scheduling someone else to be at home. Added to this the complication of a two year old running around in all the mess who had to be transported several times a day to her alter home – her grandparents’ place so she could eat or sleep in peace.

In all this, my very generous spouse offered tea several times to all the workmen. It is a nice offer – and I must appreciate his generosity in this aspect. But my feeling in the matter was that unless it is after 10pm or something, tea is always available in the shops downstairs. It is a nice break for them and they go and come as they please. Also, except in some cases, I was the one making 5 cups of tea. Should I really be cribbing about making a bit of tea when there are so many other problems the world is facing? Maybe not.

But the main problem in my mind was what to give it in. The spouse solved it on one of the earlier tea making sessions that he handled in my absence. He gave them tea in our best china cups. Our only china cups. They are actually very nice and I have always felt sorry that I have only 4 – I wish the friend who gifted them to us as we were leaving to come back to India would have splurged on 2 more. Sadly, that was not to be. So I proudly get out the cups and saucers for really important guests and just the cup for close friends and family.

When P told me he had used those cups (what else could he have used – there were no others, he asked justifiably. Glasses?, I asked.) – I was a bit dismayed. Could I now use the same cups, albeit washed thoroughly, for my other guests? I mean for people who are our “class”? I sounded snobbish and mean even in my thoughts to myself. So i continued giving them tea in those cups only for the duration of the work before the eid holidays. But I could shake the feeling that I will now feel guilty about using those cups for my friends and family.

Why? Well – largely a hygiene issue I think. The different hygeine habits of labourers, carpenters, other religions also perhaps – do they brush everyday, they chew gutka, they eat betel leaves and spit everywhere and always have vermillion coloured lips and teeth, do they have a bath everyday? I thought about a similar experience when I was young and we had some remodelling work done at our place and my Mom did have a set of glasses we never used to give the labourers water and tea. Even the lady who came to pick up the garbage, called jamadarni in the north ( I hope this doesn’t hurt class sentiments) – had a specific jamadarni glass to give water in when she asked which we never drank from.

I wondered if it was a religion issue – I am almost sure it isn’t. This “them and us” is a bit unnerving. You like to believe that you are a modern, liberal, open minded soul – but scratch the surface and there lurks a very non-inclusive, parochial, snobbish person. Oh – I am quite familiar with the workers – talk to some of them, ask them questions not always relating to work, share stories from my life as is relevant in a conversation. But I guess I must be all the things I described above too.   So, while I paid for, spent time and effort, in taking my maid to the doctor when she contracted typhoid recently, I was wary of her and her mom sitting in my car on the way to the doctor – and wondered for many days if my car is not stinking more than normal. And felt totally guilty for it.

I think I need the course in diversity and inclusiveness that the spouse’s work place offers to their employees mandatorily.

But what I got was new tea-cups. A complete new set of six cups.

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Pelham Grenville Wodehouse Tuesday, Aug 25 2009

A Whitney Houston song springs to mind as soon as I think of PG Wodehouse (he hated his full name by the way and never used it if he could help it) – though it was sung in a different context – Oh What a man, what a man, what a man! How could someone write like he did is what I wonder about most. Not that I started out that way.

From early childhood I had watched my much older siblings (one sister, one brother), immersed in books – mostly fiction. At that point I was still reading only Chandamama and Target. They bought an early Enid Blyton for me in the hope that i would start reading books – but I was too late for the Secret Seven variety and too early for the Famous Five or Five Findouters. Also I took one look at the book and proclaimed loudly,” I can never read these kind of books – there are no pictures! It looks so boring!” I was all of 6 years old I think. Famous last words.

I guess why I eventually started was that there were just so many books lying around at home – in a coveted book shelf lovingly covered, indexed, audited regularly and maintained by my brother mainly but also my sister because it was both of them with their precious Rs10 per month pocket money who used to buy second hand but in good condition books from street shops.

So well – Enid Blyton happened – Malory Towers, The Twins at St. Clares’, Famous Five, Five Findouters, Alfred Hitchcock’s Three Investigators, Trixie Belden and what not. When I was 13 my siblings decided that the time was right for a PG Wodehouse. I was give Leave it to Psmith to read. After watching me read for 5 minutes, my brother took away the book. He said, “If you haven’t cracked even a single smile after reading the first 3 paragraphs of the book, clearly you are not ready for PG Wodehouse. ” Chagrined as I was at his judgement, I decided to go with it for the time being. I guess I was pretty easy going then.

A couple of years later I decided to try PG W again. And this time, I not only cracked several smiles,  I guffawed my way through the book while my sibs cheered me on with thumping approval. I had arrived – both to the happy world of PGW and also in the eyes of my dear sis and bro.

Through the following years, after having finished many of the PGW books that we owned, I didn’t go back to him again for several years. In fact, more than 15 years passed by and I recently picked up a couple and read them through my convalescence from chicken pox. It kept me in good humor and away from dark depression throughout the week – there wasn’t any way I could be low when I was laughing so much! How can a man have written like that, was what I went back to wondering almost immediately.

I mean, sample this – “An empty aunt can’t possibly beam like a full aunt.” This, from Bertie Wooster, whose aunt fails to greet him cheerfully since on his advice she starves herself at dinner so that her husband is sorry for her and forgives her for overspending at some casino on a recent holiday. Then there is “I have no doubt you could have flung bricks by the hour in England’s most populated districts without endangering the safety of a single girl capable of becoming Mrs. Augustus Fink-Nottle without an anaesthetic.” Also “An eerie silence seemed to envelope the room like a linseed poultice”.  ”She couldn’t have given me a better cue. She had handed it to me on a plate with watercress round it”

Much can be written about this author – as has already been by numerous critics and authors. But this whole post has been written just for the pleasure of transcribing this paragraph from Plum Pie for PG Wodehouse lovers. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. It goes like this.

The impression left on the mind when one reads in the papers of the local rules and regulations in force all over the country is that life in America can be very difficult. Almost every avenue to wholesome fun seems to be barred. In Rumford, Maine, for instance, it is illegal for a tenant to bite his landlord, while in Youngstown, Ohio, stiff sentences are passed on those who tie giraffes to light standards. In Nogales, Arizona, there is an ordinance prohibiting the wearing of braces; in San Francisco one which won’t let you shoot jack rabbits from cable cars; and in Dunn, South Carolina, unless you have the permission of the headmistress, a permission very sparingly granted, it is unlawful to ‘act in an obnoxious manner on the campus of a girls’ school’.

You hardly know where where to live in America these days, especially if you are a woman. Go to Owensboro, Kentucky, and you get arrested for buying a new hat without having your husband try it on first, while if you decide on Carmel, California, you find that you are not allowed to take a bath in a business office, the one thing all women want to do on settling down in a new community. For men probably the spot to be avoided with greatest care is Norton, Virgina, where ‘it is illegal to tickle a girl’.

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