I sat with a set of children’s books in my arms. I looked down fondly at the one in my hands. The first one was about a giraffologist – the title pulling my attention almost immediately. What a delightful sounding profession?
The book is based on Dr Annie Innis Dagg who was the world’s first giraffologist. The world’s first primatologist, Dr Jane Goodall, is of course well-known. But Dr Annie, who went to Africa to study her favorite animals, giraffes, just 4 years later is practically unheard of. That is the weird nature of public attention.
Dr Annie’s life and work was made into a documentary in Canada honoring her work towards preserving these tall creatures.
The daughter’s drawing of a giraffe:
Bill Bryson’s book, The Body – A Guide for Occupants
I was thinking of giraffes and their beautiful necks one day after reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body – A Guide for Occupants. One section of the book dealt with how prone we are to choke. One particularly sad anecdote about a person who had a gold coin lodged in his throat was especially excruciating. If nothing else, I am glad we now live in a time and age when surgical techniques have come so far from the ones outlined in the book. (The coin only fell out when he was hoisted by his foot and swung like a pendulum. )
Beautiful Necks Everywhere!
Our evolution into bipedalism means that necks took on a truly unique structure to support the head, and provide a forward looking face for navigation. I stopped and chuckled at that. I was on a walk, and just like that, I started noticing necks everywhere. The crane, the gray heron, the hummingbird, the dog, squirrel and the cat.
I got home to look up the giraffe’s neck again.
Did you know that both giraffes and humans have the exact same number of bones in our necks : 7
Yet, the giraffe’s neck supports its long neck, and its heart supports pumping blood all the way up there. All those jokes about tall folks( How’s-the-weather-up-there?) suddenly feels biologically profound.
In any case, the understanding of our biology, our evolution, and our unique places in the planet is shaped by so many factors –How many giraffes with weird ears and longer tails evolved before the long necked ones that we know and love?
I craned my neck to look at a white egret crook its neck and plunge into the waters with precision and force for its breakfast, and gently massaged my own neck. ‘Up to my neck with worries’ took on a new meaning too, and I hoped giraffes and herons never had to use that phrase, when worried.
Just like that, my blog has become a proper functioning adult.
21 years of selectively writing about what matters to an ordinary person. Somehow, reflecting on the writing makes it seem like our lives were more adventurous, humorous, and fun-filled.
Now, isn’t that a lovely gift?
I was reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body, and in it, he says something incredible about memories – that we can predominantly choose what we want to remember. That often our most colorful memories aren’t the original ones at all – but rather deepened by the feeling and retelling of it. We’ve seen it in the stories we love to tell each other all the time. Every time we laugh about our own foibles, it makes the memory a more endearing one, doesn’t it?
Where am I going with all this?
Curating the blog’s theme
I realize that I am probably tending to what gets on my blog. I tend to actively gravitate towards what I want to cherish in life – beautiful moments, humorous moments, peaceful moments, intellectual moments: in short, moments of awe, curiosity, love, levity, and transformation. The negative rooted out like weeds (which is not to say that I don’t have them. I do, of course. Just in measured quantities on the blog.)
Anyway.
There are no awards given for 21 years of writing 1-2 blog posts a week, every week for 1092 weeks. 5-9 posts a month for 252 months. The award is the writing, and the wholly generous readers who stop by to wave, hopefully feel a moment of peace, get a laugh or two, and encourage me endlessly.
So, go ahead – this is a party!
Get drunk – I mean on the posts in the blog. I don’t actually offer alcohol. Please head on over and randomly click on any month, read a few, and let me know what you think, or you know, just have fun.
“I mused for a few moments on the question of which was worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted, or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored.”
Is there more to life? Our lives? Most lives? I don’t know. But I know that ‘this one precious life’, as Mary Oliver puts it demands our attention. What you value, and what you remember over the moments of your life, becomes you, doesn’t it?
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work. – Mary Oliver
P.S: WordPress tells me I have a significant achievement: World Domination – for receiving visitors from over 150 countries – with the sweet caption: The United Nations has nothing on you.
There is an energy to India that is indescribable. The heat, the rains, the people, the colors, the population, and the conversations. Over time, the nature of these conversations has shifted gently towards aging. All of us are aging, but that means, our parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents are aging too.
Even as we realize aging is coming for us all, it is a humbling experience to see previously bustling energetic authority figures succumb to the frailties of age. The anxiety among the aging is very high. Whether this is a reflection of rapid technological changes, or simply a function of age, I do not know. I don’t have the data to determine whether our grandmothers’ anxieties increased with age as well. It wasn’t something that was acknowledged, much less named and labeled.
“What are you doing, amma?” I said walking into the kitchen one night.
“Soaking some rice for appam tomorrow – I know you like it.”, she said.
“Hmm..” I said noncommittally. “Don’t worry too much. I am not particular about ..”
“I know you!” She cut me off. “You Americans get by without breakfast, without evening tiffin! We’ll make appam and stew, and I know you will love it!”
Who was I to argue with that? I do love a good appam and stew.
Women who managed careers, homes and children with competence and skill suddenly find themselves paralyzed by whether there is enough milk in the fridge for morning coffee. The certainty of Gopala, the morning milkman, is no longer there. The rhythm of waiting till morning for the milkman is gone. Instead, they find themselves checking obsessively with their children whether the breadbasket order is in.
Swift technology, quick commerce, while making it easier for us, also seems to have contributed to an increase in instant gratification among the elderly.
The Procurement Parrot
Watching the evenings unfold in families where the breadwinners work in multinational companies in India is fascinating. I watch the mother figures peep into the room where the man of the house is taking an international call – possibly the US, given the time-zone difference.
“We need curry leaves.”
The son’s performance is a class in the performing arts. Keeping his eyes trained on the screen, and acting like there is no interruption, there is an intense hand-wave not visible on the screen- signaling, “Shh!”
If you thought that would have her beaten – I show you The Great Indian Mother.
She tries again – this time with the woman of the house, who is in a different room taking a call of her own. She waves her away – with more grace. “Ssh…”
But here, the Indian system knows how to work women. The mother figure is prepared. She passes a note – a list of items that need to be ordered. A quick glance at the list results in:
(1) Either the woman of the house giving in. A pacifying nod to indicate acknowledgment
(2) Or she is sent back to the son’s laptop, with further instructions.
After a few minutes, she emerges victorious with her order of milk, curry leaves, and coriander leaves done.
I smiled at the familiar scene. Professionals in India often have to take calls with their US teams, and this means, that the post-dinner refrigerator audit resulting in last minute calls for curry leaves is often handled by the older / retired grandparents in the house.
“I sound like a parrot with these people – I want curry leaves. Order curry leaves. Did you order curry leaves?” She said, and I felt for her.
Or better yet, they managed it themselves treating the walk to the market as a little social saunter. They also, somehow, magically managed to make perfectly good dishes without curry leaves if required. Now, however, with the increase in quick commerce, nobody is willing to wait for anything anymore. Compromise seems to be on the decline.
Yes, some dishes taste better when prepared a certain way, but the beauty of home-cooked meals is in the art of adjusting, and creating anyway.
All day long, delivery folks zip by on bikes, delivering this and that to the urban household who is anticipating anything from a watermelon to a stitched blouse from a tailor down the road. Need some fermented batter delivered across the city? There is a fella on a bike willing to come home, collect it, and deliver it across the city for you. The heat doesn’t deter them, the rains barely, the snarling jams part-and-parcel of their days. Mega marts feeding quick commerce – enabling thousands to eke out a living, yes, but it also a reminder that we have forgotten to wait and be patient with our wants and desires.
“While you are having dinner itself, I’ll tell you today.”, she said the next day. ”I can’t have you hissing like cobras in the house when I come around with the list of things to order! We need 4 packets of milk – for payasam (kheer) tomorrow.”
I laughed at the cobra reference and rose to protest that payasam was quite unnecessary, but was silenced with a stare. So, I slurped the stew, and gulped the appam with relish.
“ Is the appam stew good?”, she asked me.
I smiled at the matriarch. “Yes! Fantastic as always, amma.” I said, removing the curry leaves from the stew, and setting it at the corner of my plate, while the breadbasket order for the next day was being filed under her watchful gaze.
“Who is your favorite king/emperor/ruler?” I asked my friend.
Without a second’s hesitation, he came up with the name I knew he would come up with. “Genghis Khan.” He calls it the greatest rags to riches story (personally, I reserve that category for J K Rowling).
A link to his posts on Genghis Khan if you’re interested.
When I posed the same question to the husband he said, “Chandragupta Maurya.”
The son gave me a wily smile as if smirking at the very question, and shouldn’t I know it? I smiled, “Of course! Napoleon! Fine – your turn – guess my favorite ruler then!”
“I think Ashoka.”
“Yes!’ And I beamed at him. “I always like a sappy story about a guy who sees the error of his ways, and makes amends.”
Napolean cures jetlag
I don’t know how, but I found myself being lured into a documentary about Napoleon after my trip back from India. Severely jet-lagged, and slightly bleary eyed, I agreed.
The son and the husband have this deplorable habit of checking to see if I am still awake while they make me watch things close to their heart. “Amma!”, he said straight into my ears, sounding like Napolean’s horse charging into battle, on multiple occasions. Finally, after Part 1 was over he allowed me to go bed. I suppose unlike his dear Napoleon, he spotted a losing battle when he saw one.
Now I don’t know how folks get over jet lag. But I suggest the Napoleon documentary followed by a swift 12 hour deep slumber for the desired results. I felt fresh and ready to take on the world the next day as I puttered around the kitchen making coffee.
“Thanks to Napoleon, I had a good night’s sleep yesterday!” I said to the son, who looked confused for a moment and then chuckled at the statement:I had to agree.
Napolean – the granter of peaceful slumber?
Napoleon could be credited with many things, but granting peaceful sleep was not something he achieved during his times. At least a million families knew of heartbreak and grief thanks to his relentless pursuit of power, his myriad schemes and questionable policies across Europe in the late 1700’s and early 1800s. How many families lost their sleep thanks to this man?
I said as much to the son.
“Well at least centuries after his death, he gave peaceful sleep to one jet lagged sad person who was forced to watch a documentary!” I said sticking my tongue out at the son’s horrified expression.
How could I say that about a documentary on his dear Napoleon?!
But if anything he is a good sport, and has Part 2 waiting.
For years, this was the standard response I got. It takes grit and determination to get past that answer every day for years. My school’s motto was Never Give In for a reason. I plunge on. “So when is Dr Seuss week? Should we buy a Dr Seuss hat?” (We still have the hat somewhere I think.) “It’s read-across-America week right? What should we read for our read-a-thon?”
You see? The thing is, I cannot imagine their school to be a place where nothing happens. It can’t be when they are making diasporas of dinosaur habitats, writing book reports of The Magic Tree House, learning about exotic animals – supposedly in preparation for their field trip to the zoo, and making art so their little fingers look like they dipped their hands into a rainbow.
Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.
Then, something wonderful happened.
Literature Lives
I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms. Sometimes, as a volunteer teaching experimental science, other times as a connoisseur introducing fine books of literature.
“Oh! You’re a Booklegger lady now? Cool Amma! I used to love when they came to school.” said the son one day when I told him that I had signed up to become a Booklegger volunteer at the local library.
“You knew about this program?” I said, stunned.
“Yeah, of course! It was always fun when the Booklegger people came.” He said.
“All those years I asked you, how was your day? And you never said a thing!” I said, somewhat stung at this omission. The children knew I would have loved to hear about volunteers from the library coming to introduce new books to them. Especially when I had to beg them to read books other than Captain Underpants and Dog Man all the time. He shrugged, and said “Eh!”, good-naturedly and moved on.
You see? The book even starts off with the exact sequence I wrote about earlier. How was your day? Fine! What did you do? Nothing.
The book captures the spirit behind the word ‘Nothing’ the way the son says it so perfectly, it is like the author has been around watching the son imaginate.
Imaginating Nothing
He loves to imaginate. A verb he coined himself and a word that has become a household word in the nourish-n-cherish home. It means actively imagining scenarios and living them. I know he fights off pirates and takes on armies when he leaps off the bed to the carpeted floor. The fake swords may not survive an actual duel on the battlefield, but the cushions in the house don’t stand a chance!
So many times, the only thing that has stopped me from running out of the house fearing an earthquake, is the fact that earthquakes are felt from the earth, not from the bedroom upstairs. When his friends are over to play, the Richter scale shivers and stutters.
Please head on over to the book to see what Nothing means when your child says they did ‘Nothing’ all day. I assure you it is more exciting than anything any of us do.
If only the Good days on which we do Nothing are half as exciting!
For years, this was the standard response I got from the children after school. Never one to be deterred though, I’d redirect, prod, ask specific questions: What did Shriya say about your new drawing pencils? Did Shrinik do somersaults after lunch today also?
You see? The thing is, I could not imagine their school to be a place where nothing happened, and the best adjective for the day was ‘Good!’. I knew for a fact that they listened to their teacher read out stories, they hopped along the number line, slid up and down through graphs, chased butterflies, had turf wars with sticks and stones, played sharks and minnows in the playground, were enthralled as they enacted civil wars, made the artwork that papered the walls of their colorful classroom, and so much more.
Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.
Then, something wonderful happened.
Dancers Move!
I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms, as a volunteer – sometimes reading out books, other times, teaching experimental science.
One day, we were experimenting with air pressure and force with the kindergarten children. One of the experiments was to blow bubbles to see how the bubbles stayed airborne. It was a lovely windy day, and the bubbles were a joy to teacher, volunteers, and students alike. There were delighted gasps as large bubbles drifted off into the air, and much chasing after the smaller bubbles.
When finally, the class was done, and we headed back into the classroom, the teacher said, “Oh! They have too much energy. They’ll never settle down to sit and do anything now. Let me get them to release some energy first!” I wondered what she would do, as recess was behind us, and lunch time was a while away.
I started laughing when I saw her switching on some music. “Dancers Move!”, she said, and the children seemed to know what to do. I watched mesmerized as the little ones danced to the music. What a wonderful way to blow off some extra energy?
“Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.” —Albert Einstein
I thought everyone danced!
I narrated the whole thing to the teenaged son later that day as went on a windy day walk, and he laughed, “Yes! I remember doing that all the time!”
I tell you.
“All those times I asked you how was your day, and you said ‘Good!’, you danced in school?” I said, flustered more by this than the whipping winds.
“Yes…but don’t you see? It was good. Yes. But we did it all the time. It was nothing new.”
“Why do you think I yearned to hear about your days? We didn’t dance in the office!”
“Yes, but we didn’t know that! I thought every one danced!”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. It is true isn’t it? He didn’t know what our days were like. If anything, our days were good too. Just not listening-to-stories, playing-with-air-bubbles on windy days, and dancing to let-off-steam good.
So, what do your good days look like? You know? The days you do nothing.
It was the Friday before a long week-end. The son was excited that his college-going sister was coming home, and bustled about in the morning. “Amma! Do we have any Disney t-shirts?” He yelled in response to my “It’s getting late, what are you doing? We have to go.”
“It’s Disney themed clothes today in school. I don’t have any Mickey Mouse tees or even Marvel tees. Anything?”
I stopped – midway through pouring my coffee into a cup. How could there not be any Disney t-shirts in the house? How could Disney have snuck out so quietly? All those years of Disneyland trips and Disney themed toys and clothes. How could there be none now? I felt a pang for those childhood years that seem like they just rushed past & pulled myself together.
I vaguely remembered an old sweatshirt I had picked out for the donation pile, and was happy to see a small Mickey Mouse on it. Off we went to school jabbering about the daughter’s visit, the son sporting a sweatshirt with slightly short sleeves.
The daughter arrived later that day. After a joyous and somewhat exuberant reunion that made a few rose petals fall out in the flowerbed outside, order was restored.
“Movie night!” They yelled together when asked what they’d like to do.
Movie Night
Choosing movies for week-end movie nights is something of a process in the nourish-n-cherish household. Every person is allowed 3-5-10-12 vetoes. Then, among the ones that did not get a veto, there is a vote.
Sometimes, a process like this tests Yours Truly’s patience, but the husband never really tires of it. Every veto spurs him on, like he is watching a great wave gather power before crashing on the shores. He gets excited. He bows to the almighty powers of whatever is trending then: the internet, social media, AI, and relentlessly chases after good entertainment options. It is like watching a puppy play with a butterfly. The more the butterfly flies, the more excited the puppy gets.
It baffles me.
One day, on a walk with my friends, I confessed that I sometimes just agree to something to get the process over with. I was still wincing with the previous night’s choice: Amazing Superhero This or Fantastic Superhero That. One of those.
Much has been written about the democratic process, but one of my friends nailed it that day on the walk: “I am all for democracy, as long as I get the outcome I want.” She was referring to the choices she would like her children to make, of course, but I found that true and hilarious. Ask any politician, and it is something they would heartily agree with in private. Some may even be brash enough to tout it as their trademark.
Over the years, the process has become more laborious. The husband rises to the challenge each time, and I felt a little sorry for him. I notice he rarely exercises his own veto just so that we can agree on something.
So, I told the children that between them, whatever they agreed upon, we’d watch that, and headed out for a walk with the husband.
Themed Choices
“Okay – how about we watch Tinker Bell today?” The daughter said, almost as soon as I set foot in the house.I thought about it. “Interesting choice, but did your brother get a chance to agree?” I said. I could not imagine her newly-minted teenage brother who did not own any Disney tees agreeing to Tinker Bell.
“Of course he did!”, she said, ruffling his hair. “Tomorrow, we are watching Cars!” The son beamed. “We thought it would be an interesting back-to-our-childhood themed movie week-end.”
I smiled, and the husband moaned. “As if it wasn’t enough that we had to watch these movies on repeat for years!”
“You can use your veto.” I said, feeling sorry for the man, while the children objected furiously, “You said we could watch anything as long as we both agreed!”
The husband, ever a sop to appease the children said, “No no! We’ll watch.” And then sighed so heavily as he took off his shoes, I thought he was getting a foot massage from an alligator.
So, that’s how we found ourselves in a Back-to-Disney movie marathon.
Back-to-memories
It was wonderful. Both movies had to be stopped several times as we remembered little anecdotes from their childhood. These movies formed the basis of so many conversations, stories, games, Disneyland visits, theatrical shows of display, and dumb-charades games. It was a part of our culture.
We seldom to stop to think of long-form entertainment. But any time we do, we realize how important it is to have good entertainment options. Books, movies, art, music, theatre. What would we do without it?
It would be like living in a monochrome world, my mind supplied. I watched the children cackling over some joke in the movies, and thanked the world for Disney movies. The memories in our heads seem so much more colorful thanks to them.
I made a note to buy some Disney t-shirts and beamed my happiness, feeling almost bioluminescent.
