Nourish-n-Cherish

The year 2001: I stood in the tiny telephone booth – I felt like a performing musician. I had one hand acting like a earplug to zone out the background noise. Only it wasn’t the orchestra I was blocking out, it was the street noise. I must also mention that my “audience” comprised of one bored tea delivery boy waiting for the telephone booth owner to noisily slurp the last few drops of the steaming tea. I was palpably excited about making an overseas call to my fiance to wish him a Happy Birthday. I may have been a “very successful software engineer” in my parents eyes, but I was still a dutiful daughter to parents who shouted into the phone. I suppose in their minds, a louder tone somehow speeded up the conversation.

The call connected, and my heart raced, just a trifle slower than the meter. I wished my fiance a Happy Birthday, and asked him eagerly whether he wore the shirt and tie I had picked out for his birthday. I visualized a suavely dressed engineer with a smart creased shirt, and tie in sunny California. He semi-truthfully lied that he did. (He said he didn’t wear the tie, but crumpled the shirt enough for it to pass off as less than formal. ) Years later, I found out that the shirt I had lovingly picked out for him was in a colour he did not particularly admire, and I also found out that the only time he will sport a tie is at our wedding! My loving-husband-gift-giving story had started off with a bang.

Year 2002: I did not yet have a car of my own. So, I hitch-hiked with my cousin and furtively bought a gift and kept it hidden for several weeks before springing it to him. I watched the gift gather dust on the leftmost corner of our closet well above the average human-bring’s reach. I hadn’t yet wisened up to “returning” something meant as a gift. But Time will take care of that.

Year 2003: This time, I decided to use my father’s most trite advice. (The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.) Just a gift wouldn’t do, a hand-made cake is what is needed I decided. So, I made a cake, and called our close friends and cut the cake. I was smart this time, and got him to return the gift I bought.

Year 2004: I managed to successfully glean any attention away from his birthday by being wholly pregnant and having my baby shower/seemandham etc the next day. He will be cutting a cake along with me for the baby shower wouldn’t he?

Year 2005: By now, nobody has any expectations to either impress each other with gifts or home-made cakes or store bought cakes for that matter.

Year 2006: Health conscious was the word. No sweets we decided, and we had the birthday cake replaced with a brownie. (My daughter really wanted to eat brownies)

Year 2007: Here is a post linking his ‘birthday celebration’. In short, we did everything but celebrate HIS birthday and landed up spending the afternoon with my daughter’s classroom having decided to celebrate her birthday in class instead. Ah…sweet practicality! AS for the gift, it another story!

Year 2008: We mutually agreed that I would take him along and buy him something he likes. Mr. Practicality came swinging by, and while I took my little one to a class, he went and bought something on his own around the time of his birthday. I suppose the Gajjar Halwa from last week-end doesn’t really count.

I don’t like the idea of this post. If I were to graph it out, I’d probably be snorting in his general direction somewhere down the line. Ah well…. Hubby, you will always know the sounds emanate with love!

Happy Birthday Dear Husband!

Yesterday we attended a Tamil Light Music concert by S.P.Balasubramanian and his troupe. Lead singers were SPB, Chitra, Sailaja and an emerging talent, Srikrishnan. I had multiple sound tracks going on within the auditorium. My daughter said she too knows how to sing, and sang – “I am a Kangaroo, and I don’t live in the zoo…” to a backdrop of K.S.Chitra’s national award winning rendition of “Paadariyen, Padippariyean”. Luckily, I got my daughter’s musical genius to stop manifesting itself too much. She stopped singing early enough to avoid an unceremonious armed bodyguard escort out of the auditorium of her disgraced parents cheered on by piqued fans. I hushed her into silence by promising her a complete concert dedicated to no musician but herself the moment we get home!

Chitra stole the show, in my opinion with her genius. Her unassuming self was so evident, and yet she swayed the whole audience with every single one of her performances. At some pitches, I felt my ears vibrating with joy, and she smiled through them all – she did not even seem to be straining herself. There was one person who loved her career – one could see it in her passion to sing. Her “Ovoru pookalumae solgiradhae” song which won her another national award, evokes an array of emotions in me every time, and this time too, I was left yearning for an encore of the number.

A new talent emerging in the South, Srikrishnan also performed last night. If ever there was an award for an image/voice disconnect, I would recommend Srikrishnan. Somewhere in the baggy suit that walked onto the stage was a nervous thin lad. He kept falling at people’s feet asking for their blessings, and bending over forwards in deep bows. I sometimes felt a suspension thread from the ceiling was needed to pull him backwards just to remind him of the equilibrium involved in standing upright. And then, he sang.

He had a fantastic voice, and delivered difficult songs with great ease. His Tamil diction was pardonable, even likeable because of his voice. The only song where I could not bear it was “Kaalangalil aval vasantham”.

When Chitra and Srikrishnan sang a medley starting off with Chitra calling for “Lord Krishna”, her musical cries reached an all-time high and the auditorium watched awed. Krishna, Krishna Krishna – she called with devotion and piety dripping from her voice. It was sort of ironical to watch the puny Srikrishnan standing trembling beside her.

SPB as usual stunned the audience with his persona, his voice, his humour and his involvement of the crowd. His sister performed too, and though my friends did not seem to like her, I thought she was quite good too.

My husband likened it the concert to a good cup of coffee – you are left thirsting for just a little bit more, and the taste lingers on as you yearn. Though I am not much of a coffee lover myself, I agreed.

The context : I need to take time off for my brother’s wedding.

Not that I am jealous of others who have a lot of leave at their disposal (specifically my siblings who both seem to have picked countries where leave is abundant!), but here is my leave saga. Patience is a virtue. Though people who have been witness to my outbursts of anger scarcely believe this when I say it, patience is a skill I have acquired, and use it rather sparingly. I lay waiting like the Ibex hunters in the snowy Himalayan ranges. Apparently, in the snowy stretches of the Himalayas, over 18000 feet above sea level, the sure footed Ibex graze. Slaying an Ibex requires more patience than skill. It was this strategy I used. One wrong foot, and my entire wedding presence could be in jeopardy.

You see, for the past week, my mind has been in a restless uproar. How do I get leave to attend this wedding? Even if, for a moment, we don’t delve into the depressing depths of leave disparities between the developed nations of the world, I was walking tight rope here. I had tight deliverables and low leave balance.

I also think this a right spot to cite statistics regarding leave, just to make you people realise how tough life is(Source: a friend’s blog whose source is an article she read in Via magazine)
Japanese have an average of 17.5 days per year. The French who gave us the word ‘Leisure’ – get 36 days and take 94 percent of them. In England one gets 24 days vacation time. Dubai gets 30 days with a paid ticket to their exotic destinations, and food coupons to dine in, and resort packages to stay in while on vacation. (Okay, I exaggerate, but I am allowed to do that!) US get 10-15 days off, and what’s more, on average people only take 11 days of that.

So I am justifiably piqued (in my opinion of course!) I digress. Let me get back to the saga of my leave. Like a child promised a candy for good behaviour, I did my best with a smiling face, and my entire being worked tirelessly towards the service of the organization. I ignored slights, and brushed off the hard times I had to endure. I delivered projects ahead of time, I waited for my boss to be in a good mood before springing the request on him. I was rewarded – aah, sweet manna of heaven! I got oral approval for leave. When I commence the New Year, it would be to a new beginning with zero leave balance. (But one does not dwell on the depressing, they dwell on the happy thought that there is a vacation to look forward to!)

And with that, I would like to give the signal to all concerned to go ahead with your plans. May the wedding preparations begin!

I read an article in the Times comparing the number of school days for children in the USA against the number of school days in other countries such as Korea, Japan, china, India, Australia etc. No surprises there – US ranks amongst the lowest in the world. Now thanks to the fuel escalation problems, a few schools are contemplating the move of reducing the week to have more hours per school day for 4 days, and reduce the totals number of school days from 5 to 4 per week. I am not sure I could stop with just outlining a few problems with this approach, but I’ll try not to ramble on…

1) Regardless of the number of hours spent in school, children are still left with one whole day apart from the week-end twiddling their thumbs and thinking of “recreational activities”. I have my serious doubts whether the studious teenagers would dedicate their unsupervised time and energy to finishing up their homework or additional research.

Holiday Homework
Every vacation, we left school with the familiar brown coloured sheets detailing our holiday homework. The holidays would start, and the holiday homework would find itself buried in my room and mind. In my mind, it would raise its head every now and then reminding me about the unfinished work as the holidays went slipping by. My intentions were good, but there was just not enough time! I had to pick berries, gather materials for our toy-house construction, cycle all over campus, read Enid Blytons and cook up adventures in my mind to solve. Before you knew it, it was the last week, and I was scrambling to complete my holiday homework. Countries may be different, but I am guessing children universally would dilly-dally till the last moment to do any work. I very much doubt that children would spend Friday toiling over their schoolwork while their parents are at work. My guess is it would still be done only on Sunday night afer giving considerable strain to parental nerves!

2) The parents would have to arrange for care for the children on this day. Companies are not giving us 4 day work weeks, they would still expect employees to be present on Fridays.

3) This point is the most jarring one. In a separate study comparing vacation times among US, Britain, Australia, France and Japan, US ranked the lowest. The number of Paid time off in the USA seems to be close to the lowest in the developed world!

I am uncomfortable with this. I thought Education and schooling was meant to prepare you for life! This model teaches children to expect a lackadaisical 4 day work week, and then when they start working – BAM! We strap them to their jobs and whip without a vacation!

I found this amusing piece of news today:

http://www.the-leaky-cauldron.org/2008/8/27/wb-files-suit-over-hari-puttar-film-title-in-india

A Bollywood movie titled “Hari Puttar” is scheduled for release. Puttar, as in ‘Son’ in Punjabi, and Hari – the usual Hari. Guess what Warner Bros is suing about? It sounds like Harry Potter!

I sat back and watched with a supreme sense of satisfaction. It seems like just talking about the lack of medals for India was enough to get us not one, but three medals!

I know the perfect solution to more Olympic medals. We need to talk more – ha ha!
PS: CP means Cheap Publicity!
PS1: I am very sad that the Olympics is coming to an end. It seems like 2 weeks of a treat flew past. Two weeks where we marvelled the endurance and performance of athletes regardless of their origin. Two weeks of human beings at their competitive best.

Next week, things will be back to normal again. The memory of the Games fading from our midst like a smudged water-color painting. The once firm contours blending into each other – still beautiful, but not as striking when we think back about the Olympics and smile.

Anand’s Comment on the Olympic post warranted a separate blog entry by itself. So, I’ve posted his comment as an article.

Anand says:

Let us take swimming for instance. You need great swimming pools, researchers who understand fluid dynamics, companies that excel in fluid dynamics and continuously push their R&D to develop better swim suits, private companies that are willing to fund swimmers during their training and great universities that are willing to hire such swimmers into their program and nurture them so when they are in their mid 20s – they have a post swimming career in place.This is a heady concoction – which is available may be in the G7 countries of the world. Of course, I was surprised to see Coventry is Zimbabwean [of course she spent her last 6 years in Auburn.Cavic is Serbian only for olympics. He is a thoroughbred Californian. The other great swimmers from the non G7 countries seem to have gone to Ann-Arbor or Cal.Basically at this level of competition where the difference between #1 and #10 is less than half a second – infrastructure is EVERYTHING. I can extend this argument to Track and Field as well. San Jose Mercury News carried a story about why Jamaicans rule in Track and Field – it went back nearly 40 years to SJSU. Their athletic program took nearly 30 years to start yielding results. Of course a lot of the research support I mention is now available to those athletes too, who also train a lot in the US.If anything, I am totally convinced that to be anywhere near the top in any of these competitions, you better have the entire infrastructure to support you. When would India grow enough to create such support? Not anytime soon I think. If someone spent $200m to build a fantastic T&F center or a swim center – imagine the ruckus it would create right now. Only when the basic needs of the common man are met, can and will India think of esoteric acts such as excelling in sports come into being.Yes, there are random acts of individual brilliance that bring medals to much smaller countries – which will happen in India too. But as a system that generates medal winning athletes olympics after olympics – I would be very surprised if I saw it happen in our lifetime.

Anand further pointed us to an article written by Amit Verma

http://indiauncut.com/iublog/article/india-doesnt-need-olympic-pride/

It was a long day. There were a number of interesting events today, but I’m here to report none of that. I sat in the car, in silence. I knew the lack of conversation was all my daughter needed to fall asleep. She had had a tiring day too, and had been extra active for the past 6 hours. I glanced across at my husband holding the steering wheel, and then looked out the window. It was either the full moon, or close to the full moon.

I felt strange, sitting there watching the trees go by, the cars whiz past. The clouds moved – dark gray clouds, but it wasn’t supposed to rain. How much one relies on the weather forecast, I thought idly. It was beautiful to watch the moon peer in and out of the gray clouds. Just as I thought some clouds were moving fast enough to eclipse the whole moon, the moon would slip out again. I watched the moon looking for a smile when it emerged. But all I saw was the bright moon with the same dark spots. I wondered about how we overload our thoughts and yearn for other things to change. Just because I wanted to find a smile is not going to change the moon’s contours to be a smile. The moon is the moon – reflecting sunlight, moving around the earth and awarding a peaceful moment to anyone willing the take the time to notice it.

I just sat and watched the moon slip in and out of the clouds the whole way home. I am trying to find the word for my feeling – but then I realise I cannot describe it. I couldn’t remember the last time I spent time just looking at the moon. Is peaceful the word? I am not sure, but it felt good. I watched as my husband stopped at the traffic signal – my daughter had slept.

I loved the for 7.2 miles in the silence of the moon.

It happens every leap year without fail. There is a sinking feeling, a feeling of great shame. As the second most populous nation in the world marches into the Olympic arena along with every other countries (some hitherto unheard of), the Indian in me cowers. I know of the feeble attempt we will manage, and feel terribly sorry to see the tiny contingent who has made it to the Games.

What do we lack?

Political will for sure. The making of Sports as an industry for another. Sports have to be made enticing enough to want to make people pursue them as a career. The prime-time in the life of an athlete is a short span, and if the industry surrounding this spurt does not sustain such talented individuals, few people would make the choice. There have to be careers for those who excel – as trainers, as team co-ordinators, as people who can be given the responsility to contributing to decisions in ways that touch not just their lives, but those of others who have the honor of representing the country. Cricket has achieved that, and I think it should be the same for other arenas too.

My husband and I were chatting about this, and one viable option would be to have a roadmap to win 5 medals in the next Olympics, and then make a career path for aspiring athletes. Make the infrastructure ready and available, hone skills and inspire people to succeed.

It is not difficult to achieve once the commitment is made, just difficult to overcome the reluctance to commit.

We had been camping last week-end – a bunch of moms from Kee’s class thought of it, and all-in-all eight families went camping. IT was only for a night, but it was enough to have me reeling for days. I am just recovering!

The camp grounds were far enough from civilization but close enough to the wilderness for us to get a sense of rugged adventure. From the top, we could actually see the city lights glittering at night, and I must say it made a melancholy sight to be sitting there in the tent peering out at the city lights down below. The tent itself is a masterpiece – a small package, that, when erected properly rooms a family of three or four with ease and relative comfort. We had the foresight of ‘selecting’ our tent site on a slope that had a 11.3 degree inclination and I must say we enjoyed the night slipping down the grade and getting back up grumpily and hauling ourselves back up again – sleeping bag, pillow, torch, night light, cell-phone, Kee and all. And try all of this on a full stomach and aching limbs, and I’ve sketched out comfort for you. Oh yeah – it was great fun – I spent half the night giggling as we picked ourselves up and ‘moved north’.

I see some eyebrows raised when they read ‘full stomach!’ – you see, we were a bunch of Indian families. While we may have forgotten some things like nightlamps and flash lights, do you think we forgot food? We had food fit for a king and his army – ordered from a fancy restaurant and brought to the summit with heating trays and candles. A complete Indian meal with Shrikand for dessert. If we couldn’t do justice to it, it was because we had too much tea, cookies and brownies for snacks! And of course, we had a HEARTY breakfast the next day – samosas with bread, butter croissants – all in the name of feeding our kids.

Speaking of the kids, they had a blast – running around, hiking (three year old kids actually did 1.5 mile round trip hikes), ‘rock climbing’ and of course falling and getting hurt. Our campsite was on a gradient as previously mentioned, and every second minute a child was toppling over. I found it quite amusing to note the varying reactions to a fall. Some children generally seemed to summon folks from neighbouring camps with first -aid kits for all their din, while others brushed themselves off and just toppled over again with no second thoughts. There was a tap at the site, and every once in a while a harried parent would be seen shaking their heads in disbelief, wringing their hands and pulling an unwilling child from the tap.

The highlight of the trip were the racoons – they are food lovers, and come scanvenging for food near campsites. They don’t have fear of any kind towards humans, and quite a few times the whole populace was grimacing with wild gestures, only to see the racoon get more and more convinced that this was the place for a wholesome meal! (I actually have a pic of everybody shooing the racoons, and it really looks comical )

Eight kids and their families on a hillside with a raccoon to boot – that’s what I call a fun vacation!