A houselift

The house needed a revamping just like her life. All of five years old, it looked lovely when they first moved in. She had taken great care choosing the fixture, every piece of furniture, the lovely stone, glass and wood showcase in the hall, even the ends of the curtain rods were just the right shade. Her curtains were lovely with a rich look – all the shades she had chosen were muted, beige and shades of brown with a little line of gold running wherever she could manage.

Today, the house looks shabby. Crayon drawings and marks are all over the walls interspersed with patches of brown where in spite of her best efforts, the children have managed to stick something nasty, usually chocolate. The sofas are in a pathetic state with the upholstery coming apart and the heavy drapes would do with a thorough cleaning which simply cannot be done at home.

Her mind feels like the house. Once upon a time it sparkled, each facet throwing off a light of varied hue. Now it was badly in need of polish – occasionally a spark would show to remind her of how she used to be. Her thoughts lie scattered like the toys that she keeps picking up. Her smile is as faded as the sofa cushions. Her eyes have long ceased to shine merrily and instead look inward for some kind of solution to her need to clean up her life.

The house can be put to rights with a paint job, new sofas and the threat of capital punishment on any tendency to crayon by the kids. But what of her life? Can one buy new thoughts? Can one mix and match desires with actions? A fresh breeze of air blew in the window making tendrils of her hair tickle her face, teasing out a smile. Why, not? , she thought. Why can’t I think anew, change my mind’s contents to what suits me, why can’t I get the sparkle back in my life? I will simply go ahead and do it all – fix my house, fix my life. I will not be afraid to go far in my bid to find myself – I will not be afraid to go too close either – she smiles as she thinks all this and the day begins to take on a new glow.

waxing

I am a woman who hates waxing. There are many reasons for this aversion. Firstly, it’s painful beyond belief to have someone pull the hair on your arms, legs & worst of all underarms by the roots. Secondly, it’s not cheap. Thirdly, the effects are too transient and the whole exercise has to be repeated regularly. Let me go over my points in more detail.

Experts say enduring pain is a question of mind over matter. If you control your mind, you can control your body and hence intense pain can be blocked even during torture (from accounts of world war prisoners). So I apply this principle diligently to the matter of waxing. I never cry out – I always manage to contain the pain but it still hurts like crazy and that has not changed in the years I have been subjecting myself to this wonderful system of hair removal. The second point is to express my misery at actually having to pay large amounts of money to endure this pain in spite of not being a masochist by any stretch of the imagination. The third point is my real bugbear – this self-induced means of hurting myself and my wallet for the specific purpose of achieving diva-like smooth skin is further compounded by the much-desired smoothness lasting for about two weeks. Worse , then follows a stage where you can see incipient dark beginnings of hair popping all over the place but you can’t do anything about those because they are too small!! And post that, you reach is the ape-look-alike stage by which time you gleefully submit to the waxing yet again.

I must be an incurable optimist. Otherwise why would I do this over and over again with the futile hope of seeing the hair growth diminish and at least after a decade, hope for minimal hair on my arms? The funny thing is that I am no means a person who dresses up royally or spends money on cosmetics. Most things don’t agree with my skin so I leave it as it is. I don’t go into a tizzy over having my hands and feet baby-soft or obsess over whether I have a bag to match ever outfit. This depilatory tendency of mine is just because I like looking and feeling smooth. That surely is not too much to ask of God, is it?

a bit of pain

There is some pain in every life. It is always so. I think that my pain is greater than yours or someone else's but that may not be so - the pain may simply be different. My pain is my son. He is 7 and very cute. He will no doubt grow up to be extremely good-looking. But he loves too much. He has a big heart and is far more childish than acceptable. He does not know how to calibrate his affection or his anger. He talks too little and not all of what he says makes sense. I keep telling him"Speak properly - don't act like a fool - stop doing this". I know it sounds awful. And today he was making such a hue and cry over a missing button that I completely lost it in the morning. I spanked him hard and told him to stop screaming about a goddamn button. And I felt like crap. My mother, the oracle went on and on about how she doesn't know how his future will turn out if I continue like this - how he will never improve if I spank him - how God only knows what will happen to him. I told her he is too dumb to have any future and please keep quiet.Then I apologized to my son and he says " I am sorry Amma" - and we hugged for a long time.

I keep trying to figure out what I did wrong with him. I have been too impatient but would that cause hyperactivity or a lack of speaking ability ? Maybe - I don't really know. What I do know is that I long for a day I can leave him on his own with the knowledge that he can take care of himself completely.I wonder why I can't accept him as he is instead of looking at him as a walking reminder of how I failed as a mother. How do I explain that I am angry at myself for failing him and I can't face him because I can't face myself?

Complexed

The women in this complex give me a complex. I have no clue how most of them seem well-informed on the most inane means by which to waste money. I had to attend a birthday lunch of a neighbor yesterday and while she is very down-to-earth, most of the rest of the guests were of a species that can best be described as the version 1.1 of the female since the basic version which I belong to needs to get too many upgrades before qualifying for 1.1 status. These women don't just get clothes stitched, they get them custom-made - hence they don't go to tailors but to designers :-(. They also have impeccably neat homes whereas mine resembles a painter's dream (drug-induced!) and would put Salvador Dali to shame. My kids have actually destroyed the walls (its not like I have not tried stopping them but live-in maids when I was working did the trick - what have they got to lose if the kids want to crayon the walls to death?) and I don't allow any of my actual friends to come home for sheer shame. Back to female version1.1 - they talk about manicures, pedicures, all kinds of waxing and blueberry cheesecake (I love that part :-)) and of course sex. It would have been fine if they just came out and talked about sex directly but its kind of oblique and pops up in unwarranted moments. As in "you have a cold? - is your husband back from his trip to ’x’ (take your pick - London, Paris, Bangkok, New York...) - well, then go have sex - I guarantee your cold will not last the night”. You get my drift? I have to mention here that I did not make up the aforementioned conversation at all - it actually happened! The only thing I've learned from this is that 1.1 is definitely not backward compatible - I feel like a complete freak but on the bright side look at what I get to write!

mornings in Kerala

The very air in Kerala is soft and lazy. The countryside is always sleepy. A number of men will be sitting idle at every bus-stop and tea-shop that you see. They will watch you with disinterested expressions – that is unless you are a relatively okay-looking woman in which case they will ogle you mercilessly even when you are covered from top to toe. The fragrance of fish cooking in coconut oil combines with the smell of wood smoke creating a very heady combination (at least to my senses). You will hear snatches of music being played through loudspeakers in front of temples or maybe the sound of a scratchy radio pouring out of a barber shop which where all the men go for a bit of political gossip which happens to be the mainstay of men in Kerala. You will also see so much greenery that your eyes are spoilt for choice. The sun’s rays beating down will be mitigated by their passage through coconut fronds leaving you with pleasant warmth and plenty of dappled shade to walk in. You unconsciously smile and relax and breathe deeply.

My palm tree

The window where I sit when at work at home looks out onto the front lawn which has a huge palm smack in the middle. Its a young growing palm, very beautiful in a prickly kind of way. To me it always looks happy. Its leaves look like fans and are always turned to the sun. It waves its arms about happily with every passing breeze and goes positively bonkers when the wind and rain lash it . Sometimes I just sit and sip some tea nad watch the palm and it has a very soothing effect - if I ever write that novel of mine I will dedicate it to my very own palm tree :-)

How does one relax? I can never let go of whatever it is that's keeping me in knots to relax completely. I jsut got a massage and am feeling rather drowsy but all through the massage the only thing I was thinking of was how odd it felt to be lying down with too little on. I was too conscious and couldn't relax sufficiently for the massage to be of much benefit. I have often wondered what is it that makes me hold tight to inhibitions instead of letting go - is it the lack of trust in others or some deep seated insecurity within me that doesn't want any else to see a weak or less than perfect side? This affects almost every aspect of my life - and I wonder how can I be free of this desire to be perfect or at least of the shame I feel in being less than perfect

a kind of beauty...

Is beauty so blinding that every other fault becomes acceptable or invisible? I find that quite often this is so. Take the case of a famous Bollywood actress here in India – undoubtedly she is beautiful – looking at her is as restful as looking at wonderful scene out of nature. Her features are perfectly symmetric and altogether her form is very pleasing to the eye. But she can’t act for nuts. She can’t talk for nuts either and her high pitched giggle is intolerable. I cringed when I saw her on Oprah. I have seen wooden cupboards that can do a better job at acting. My four year old daughter can definitely beat her hands down. Her eyes are gorgeous but without expression of any sort save the “I know I am beautiful” look. She tries to look like she is in love and she turns out looking constipated. She tries to act like she is happy and she looks like she’s grimacing because the smile never once reaches her eyes. And yet she is idolized by millions and her movies are usually super hits. I cannot see why it is impossible for everyone except a few of us to perceive her lack of talent. But I do have to mention that the few movies this lady has done for the Western audience have fallen flatter than a pancake thrown from a 10 storey building. So there’s at least hope ….

a friend

I have a few friends - a few people whom I have given that title to because they mean a lot to me. I hope that I mean a lot to them too. I have often prided myself on my judgement and congratulated myself on being able to discern a good friend amidst a crowd. I have trusted people whom no one else would and I have seen the good in some though it was hiddden rather deep and all in all have been extremely lucky in keeping most of the friends I have made over the years.

But I have erred a few times - a couple of times in college and one more recently. This friend meant a lot to me. I found time to think about him in a day filled with office and home and untold small tasks to be taken care of. I tried to put up with the moodiness ,the frequent shutting off from me and have more than once considered throwing the whole friendship out of the window because it seemed not worth my time at all.But whereas I have no patience with anything else, with friends its a different matter. Their problems are mine - I want them to be successful even more than I want it for myself - I rejoice in their every victory - I don't think my blood relatives have inspired that kind of love in me because these are my chosen ones. But this last friend did not deserve anything like that because he never understood it - of course it was my fault for judging wrongly but it still hurts. Hurts on many levels and so I let go - bye former friend - one of my mistakes and maybe a setback when it comes to making new friends.

an adjustment of love

I recently saw a program on TV in which some numerologist was being interviewed. I know neither his name nor how he came to be so – I caught only the second half of the programme. Usually I have no belief in numerology, and indeed that part of what he said was still open to doubt according to me, but what he said about a few other things and the way he expressed himself was very interesting. He mentioned many aspects of his trade and also said that there are many times in life when options open up and we fail to recognize or utilize them. This was said mainly in the context of marriages, by which I mean arranged marriages of course. According to him a person has a few instances in his or her life where he or she can possibly get married. If these are ignored, then desperation kicks in and as one’s age progresses, almost anyone of the opposite sex begins to be considered good enough.

That is something I have observed happening to friends and family around me. Moreover, he said that love alone cannot be the basis of any marriage – without looking at horoscopes and family backgrounds, the marriages do happen but they don’t last. Also, marriages are successful with just adjustments and have no real need for love in order to be viewed as stable or happy. These statements will have a lot of people protesting but there will be an equal number somewhere at various homes smiling and nodding if they hear this. I will continue later …

evolution

Each person's individual spiritual evolution happens at a different pace. By spiritual evolution , I mean the gradual awakening of a sense of peace with oneself and an understanding of if not the meaning of life at least the purpose of one's existence. It is my belief that when one goes through that journey, one develops qualities like patience, slowness to judge or criticize, a lessening of ego and a feeling of kinship with everyone. Without any of these , the entire spiritual journey becomes meaningless.

For these very reasons, I don't hold with using spirituality as a weapon or religion as a cause for conflict. Religion is meaningless by itself - if the individual does not evolve ,it does not matter what his religion is - why make religion such an excuse to do the most base actions?We can do away with religion entirely in fact if we bother to attempt to recognize our own godliness.

for our kids

I tell all my friends that I am not a good mom but I am a great wife ;-).I say so because I lack patience, I get irritated at the slightest annoying trait like whining which my son does in abundance while my daughter is stubborn to the point of no return. But I realise that that's not the only charecteristic that is required. I do have fun with them at rare moments and I hope they treasure that once grown up. My husband is a very dedicated dad and the favourite parent any day.While normal days find me at my wits' end wondering how to communicate with my son and forcing him to sit down for a bit and write or read, the days they are sick, I become a total mom. I can neither eat nor sleep - I am grouchy but unable to take a break. The past 30 hours saw us taking care of my daughter non-stop. It was her fourth birthday on Friday and late at night around 1 o'clock , she started throwing up.It went on all night and continued till 5 the next evening - not one of us had a minute's rest. My head was exploding with pain and lack of sleep but i managed to keep her somewhat active despite her dehydration because seeing her lie quietly with a blank expression broke my heart. She could not drink even a drop of water without instantly vomitting and she lost a kilo overnight. Poor kid - after trips to the doctor and trying out various home remedies she stabilized sometime least night and drifted off to sleep. We took her back to the doctor for a final check up ( he was thinking of admitting her to the hospital since she was dangerously dehydrated ) and he said she would be okay for the night. After soem 6 hours of solid sleep I woke feeling refreshed and with no memory of the hard hours we passed.

That's what parents do. We can't help it - I may not be a good mother but I am a mother - someone who cannot think of herself first. Being a parent brings one out of the constant state of obssession about what the world thinks of one or how to impress everyone or how to make sure that every detail of one's appearanceis just right - not that any of that is wrong but being able to rise above it is definitely a step forward in evolution. Hurrah to all parents :-)

why help at all?

I have this really annoying habit of helping people when they need it and they have an annoying habit of forgetting it and getting my back. Why do I continue to do this ? Maybe I have a death wish of sorts. Maybe I secretly like being kicked (yeah right).Not really, the fact is I am a softie and I really do empathize with people.And I also get hurt when they don't respond in kind. One would think that as I grew older, I would've learnt
not to trust anyone but in only that one area, I seem to be an eternal optimist. Take the case of my wonderful neighbour S. She is a real piece of work. I know she manipulates everyone but I can't say no when she asks for help. And I find that I lose out each time. She always asks for my maid when hers doesn't turn up and in order not to burden the lady, I tell her to leave half my work undone and go help her out. And in return S tries to lure her away with more money :-). But do I learn? Certainly not - Arians are known for being dumb that way ...

chilly mornings

The mornings here have become chilly.I get up and look out my window at a blanket of mist over all the greenery and the houses. Its lovely weather if you look at it a certain way (as in not including the allergy & coughs my son suffers through the entire winter). I love sipping hot ginger tea and dreaming in this weather. I love wanting to sneak under my quilt and settle against a mound of pillows to read some fantasy book about dragons ( I absolutely love dragons :-)). I love sitting quietly and peering at my inner thoughts. Sometimes its lovely just to sit and be still.

How does it feel?

I often wonder what falling in love is like. I would like to know so that I can compare it to my experiences so far and determine whether I have, to date, ever fallen in love. This may sound weird but how does one make out? What are the charecteristics to look for? Will there be background music, some kind of electricity or any such tangible things involved? Or will there only be shared laughter, a look of longing ( I am sure I would not recognize it even if served to me on a bed of lettuce), a wish to see that person over and over again? I am neither totally practical nor a complete dreamer - I feel like a useless combination of the two sometimes. My life has flown on expected lines. I was raised with the notion of the uselessness of such things as beauty and love. My mother was a true beauty in her younger days - sculpted features, amazing bone structure - breathtakingly beautiful. She used to tell me that it did not do anything for her - she would rather have had anything else. I was never beautiful , so I did not understand what she meant at all. As to love, no one in my family ever talked about it - it was not the done thing.I was married off to a suitable chap ten years ago, again there was no question of love, only acceptance. He's a really nice guy but whether I have fallen in love I do not know - I do love him beyond a doubt but I don't remember falling. So its the urge to experience that dangerously delicious free fall that I am talking about. How does it feel?

Perennially confused

I am into my second day of not going to work and I am going nuts. I thought my son, who has learning difficulties and some integration issues would need my attention and working was my way of running away instead of facing that unpleasant reality. I don't like imperfections - if I make a dish that is rather less than my usual standard (of excellence ;-)) I throw it rather than serve it to anyone - if I think I may not be good at something, I won't even attempt it - these are not qualities that I am proud of but they are mine nevertheless. So I was unable to be a good influence on my son. I kept thinking if learning was so effortless for me, how could it be difficult for anyone else, especially my son?!! In any case since he needs a lot of one on one time, I thought (well it's always the mom's fault, right?) that I'd do freelance corporate training instead of software engineering (which I think i'm just okay at , anyways). It will take a couple of weeks to set up and I am sure I will be climbing the walls in frustration in the mean time. I am so not cut out to be a mom - I worry a lot but have no clue what to do with them - I think as they grow older I will be a real gem of a mom but now at this age I have nothing to say to them except "Stop crayoning the walls - do not cut your sister's hair - please stop tearing the sofa - eat your food you ungrateful brats - I can't wait till you have brats of your own you li'l monsters" and the like :-).

So I am confused - why do I think I should be at home more when I feel I am really not of much use here?Why cannot I stick to the resolution of blanking out all other thoughts and worries when I work? Sheesh - I need to have my head examined - I think I sabotage my own career without thinking ...