Back to Back

Lying in bed yet again on a forced regime of rest due to my moody back muscles spasming for no discernible reason the third time in a month, I find myself stuck with chores and work piled high and no way to do any of them. My mother is home and so I don’t have to worry about food which is a plus. The kids always get upset when I cannot take them out or bake with them or even watch movies with them (sitting is not an option). So after a day of this enforced confinement I thought I would just get on with some writing. If the damn spasm continues its painful existence, I would just live with it. Easier said than done of course.

What continues to amaze me is the lack of solutions on offer for this problem which is only related to a weakening of muscles and nothing more at this point. I am told to avoid bending, lifting, standing for too long, sitting for too long and all sudden movements. How is one to live like that? Sudden movements are my thing. I like doing everything quickly. I asked the doctor for a way to strengthen my muscles and he said there were a few exercises I could do. He also gave me painkillers that have so far not managed to make an iota of difference. They must be too polite and self-effacing I fear.

Like the good girl that I (mostly) am, I did all the exercises scrupulously until yesterday when I got a spasm in the middle of doing them (yes really – how’s that for irony!) To those who have no idea what I mean by a spasm, it feels like a huge electric shock followed by pain that if given a physical form would resemble an octopus. When struck by spasm lightning, I first curse everything around me. I then attempt to turn to my side and end up failing and in worse pain right back where I started. Again to anyone who needs help with their imagination, at this point I look like a cockroach on its back flailing its limbs helplessly and unable to turn over. More cursing ensures. I take a deep breath which ensures that the pain stabs viciously and in slow motion, manage to turn to my side. Victory! Well, partial victory – now I have to push down on my palms to lift myself up. This is no walk in the park. But at this point I am angry and uncaring of pain and I simply push and raise myself up till I can move my feet to the floor and get up. Why should I get up instead of lying down when in pain? Well, I like to see if I can get up because after years of this wonderful experience I have a fear of not being able to get up one day.

The rest can be summed up in fifty shades of pain and I am not going to write all that down. What irks me is the fact that anything I do to strengthen these damn muscles just ends up hurting me more. The biggest spasm of my life was after a yoga session last month where the lady insisted on me bending forward when I had told her quite clearly I was not allowed to do it.

“Oh go ahead”, said she airily “Your back is strong enough now.”

I went ahead. The next few days were one constant “AAAAAAHHH!”

I have now figured out that even if I become corpulent I am to avoid any back exercise at all. I can walk as always but no more attempting to solve this puzzling problem. Its probably karma at work or something or perhaps I am some kind of catch-all giant if-then-else statement where all the 'elses' end up. In any case, my back and I have parted ways mentally many years ago and the resultant uneasy marriage between us is bound to be unpleasant to say the least. In a more technologically advanced world I could simply divorce this annoying part of me and get a better endowed replacement but sadly this is all the fates have in store for me ;) – karma yet again!

The superficial

As the years pass the one thing that I cannot seem to tolerate is the superficial. Now I know superficial is a qualifying word and not a noun but if you look around you today, what you encounter most is the superficial – it has become a noun for it is the default state in which many go through life. I don’t intend to sound preachy and talk of why it is important that people engage in more than a superficial level. It is not my business to judge or act holier-than-thou. I do however feel profound sadness when there is so much pain existent in this world that can be mitigated if only people can engage deeply with others.

There is no lack of money today. But our natural resources are dwindling. The distribution of wealth has never been more unequal. There appears to be too many needy and not enough willing to share. We have seen this state of affairs for long enough. It is certainly not going to change overnight. Why should you care? It does not directly affect you. You have a nice house, a car or cars, your kids go to a good school, you have power and indoor plumbing, you have so much food that you waste it just because you are not in the mood to eat something and would rather just order something else.

I am not saying that you should give up your activities and immerse yourself in social work. I only say that every single person can make a little difference to one other person’s life with hardly any effort. Over the years I have marveled at the generosity and caring I have received from people who did not have much to share. I have been surprised by the disdain people around me have shown when I spoke of even the simplest ways to help a cause. It is most often the noveau riche who forget to be human beings and what’s worse, raise their children to be ignorant of the sheer joy of sharing, instead passing on the tendency to boast and demand rather than the ability to love and give. Could there be a poorer legacy?

It is giving that makes us better people. The less people know of your giving, the greater the satisfaction of having done something that helps you grow. Giving solely for the sake of receiving appreciation is of no use. All of this however has to be taught at a young age. As you grow older your heart shrinks and becomes hard with the deposits of ego, arrogance and prejudice. Giving becomes difficult and one is filled with a sense of entitlement instead of gratitude.

I look around my neighbourhood everyday. I hear conversations that are steeped in snobbishness and a feeling that the disadvantaged have no place in our world. If the people here had instead decided that they would feed one child a day from a family that cannot afford it or perhaps buy schoolbooks for a needy child or even just be caring to someone who could use a good word, there would be so much change. Now imagine if a country could change like that and then the whole world. Would there be so many atrocities committed if we felt others had the right to the same things we do? Would we kill someone because they pray differently or eat differently? Would we sit back and watch girls being raped and do nothing? Would we close our doors to people fleeing from persecution? Would we look at a picture of a tiny little boy washed ashore on some beach and move on to something easier to handle without a qualm?

Caring is what is missing in our existence. Caring is what brings meaning. Caring is the foundation of tolerance. Caring is what we need to teach ourselves and our children – instead life seems to be all about the easy superficial…

Onam again....

Onam is my favourite festival. I have written many times how the sights and scents of Onam made me joyous as a young girl and later on as I had my own family. It is a festival of sharing. I loved making the traditional sadhya for my family and other loved ones. I would go to great lengths to prepare everything perfectly from dry roasting the coconut for a variety of dishes to eschewing store-bought masalas in favour of hand ground ones. It was a tradition I wanted to create. The tastes you hand down to your kids serve as the most vivid memories of childhood. Years later when you are not around to be with them, a whiff of some childhood memory will bring them comfort. Every year a few of my friends would come over to spend Onam day with us. This past year being one of bereavement, I cannot in good conscience celebrate the festival tomorrow. My husband is away in Europe. The kids and I are going to design a lavish pookalam and then go over to a friend’s house for lunch - simple and low key celebration unlike my normal one. There is a time for different kinds of Onam during a lifetime. The spirit of the festival however is always the same for me.

The symbolic idea of Onam is to celebrate a good harvest. In this day and age when practically nothing is grown in Kerala to warrant the tag of self-sufficiency, it is not harvest so much as prosperity that is celebrated. We are grateful for the abundance received and in showing our gratitude with generous feasts, we hope to make the coming year prosperous as well. The traditional celebrations of old are stories I have heard from others. The plucking of flowers like the pure white thumbapoovu, bright blue krishnapoovu, the deeper vibrant blue kakkapoovu and indeed any flower the children could lay their hands on to make the beautiful pookalams. The food prepared from vegetables and grains grown in the fields around the houses. The graceful kaikottikali dance that all the women of the house would engage in after the feast. The playing of games that are no longer in vogue. All the borrowed memories tell a tale of a simpler time when there truly was abundance in the land. Now the flowers and vegetables come from Tamil Nadu. The rice comes from Andhra Pradesh. The fields have given way to houses and high rises. Most of the children think Onam is merely a holiday to feast and burp.

In the midst of remembering the times past, its yet fruitful to be grateful for whatever we have in the present. Onam changes over the years but its vibrancy will never change. In the month of Chingam when the entire land looks its gorgeous best, when the scents of water lilies fill the air, when women look lovely in their cream and gold mundu-veshtis, when people open up to each other again simply because no one can be unhappy at Onam time, you fall in love with the spirit of this beautiful festival all over again. Happy Onam everyone!

Where are the teachers?

My eleven-year-old got me thinking this morning. It’s a Sunday but since she had a whole day of fun and enjoyment yesterday, I asked her to stop lounging about on the couch in the morning and start tackling a few concepts in science. I wanted her to list out things she had trouble with so we could learn more about them. She wasn’t exactly pleased to be ousted from the couch but she did do as I asked. While looking through her lessons, she started reciting her litany of complaints. The science teacher didn’t know squat. She yelled too much. She targeted children who asked questions. Her spellings were awful. Now I had heard some complaints about the social studies teacher as well – someone who kept saying a century meant ten years – which for a little kid is quite an eye-opener in terms of comprehending that the teacher actually made too many mistakes. I can see how disillusioned she is and how little respect she holds for a few teachers and that is truly sad.

My daughter is smart but her interest in any subject is totally dependent on the teacher who is in charge of it. I told her that she has the entire internet at her disposal. Learning can be so much more fun than the way we did it when I was a kid. So what if she didn’t have the best teachers? In her previous school she had equally incompetent teachers at twice the fees – how did it make a difference? She had her parents – S is a math whiz and I love English to the point of distraction – so why couldn’t she just ask us? That level of initiative was missing. She had to want to know things. She needed to learn how to pick up things on her own. She needed to enjoy learning.

Teachers migrate from one school to another for the salary. Yes it’s a tough job but it is also an important one. If you do not have the knowledge or ability to teach, you end up leaving the impression that teachers as a whole are a bunch of idiots who get into a cushy job for the vacation timings or simply because their child too goes to the same school and that makes things convenient. Teachers should be tested and certified every year – the kind of ignorance that is rampant among the teaching fraternity is an insult to the society as a whole. It happens because they are not questioned.

I have met a number of teachers in recent years who make me want to actually indulge in violence. I get circulars that are so full of errors I cannot make head or tail out of them. I have seen teachers who not only don’t know their subjects and sent their own kids for tuitions on the subjects they majored in but also hold regressive opinions which they foist on their students. I have seen many notebooks corrected wrongly so that I have to spend hours teaching my daughter that what was marked correct was in fact wrong. I have seen teachers using abusive language but have been powerless to intervene because the concerned parents were keeping quiet. I have seen parents suck up to teachers so that they have better grades than the rest. I have seen parents remember the teachers’ birthdays and send cakes to make that great impression.

If all of that is the hallmark of a good parent, then I obviously suck because I don’t know my daughters’ teachers by name nor do I ever compliment them on their appearance. For every meeting, I ask how she is doing and whether anything more is required of me as a parent. I am in and out of PTAs in 5 minutes. I don’t send my children for tuitions because teaching them is something I like doing (on some days ;))and it is a personal choice that I can indulge in now. Also tuitions are a way of making extra money for the same teachers who aren’t doing their job well at school. Of course there are a few teachers who are so good that just interacting with them is a pleasure but they are a minority.

The sad part of dealing with teachers who hate teaching is that its an utter waste of the child’s time. Imagine how wonderful it would be to awaken a child’s curiosity and illuminate her mind. The spark of dawning understanding is pure joy to witness. Teachers hold the future of a generation in their hands. Our former president Kalam was a fine teacher – one who believed in every child’s potential. As long as we look at teaching as just another job, we will never have truly inspired teachers and that is a damn shame.

Mirroring values

I have often wondered how the measure of a man or woman changes when that which we believed about them is shattered. I do not talk of expectations or perfectly flawless behavior towards us and us alone. I was thinking rather of how there are things that should be counted as components of character but these days are simply forgotten. If someone you are close to has a friend or loved one who makes no bones about being prejudiced about the colour of the skin, about holding views that are appallingly backward about women for someone supposedly educated, about thinking children who come from less than illustrious backgrounds or with difficulties cannot be in a classroom with other kids; how would you deal with the situation?

Is there no need to stand by a principle these days? You say you are not prejudiced and someone you glorify ill-treats others but not you and you are okay with that? How does that make sense I wonder? If the world had applauded and rewarded a South Africa that was promoting apartheid but that was always unfailingly polite otherwise, would that have been right? If you are not directly hurt by the venom of someone you choose to love, is it then alright to watch the subject of it getting hurt? A subject whom you had befriended?

There is no justice in most things in life. But of one thing I am certain - if a person I was close to uttered anything prejudicial about another friend, I would have stood up and defended the friend who was being judged. I would have lost a certain amount of respect for that person because prejudice is inexcusable. I would probably never look at that person the same way again. So even if you do not actually hurt someone yet stand and watch someone over whom you have influence hurt someone and do nothing, then you at some level are responsible for that hurt. If you put up with it, there is a part of you that agrees with that action. For if you do not agree, if you feel strongly against it, you cannot remain silent – you would speak out.

I am however blessed with a spouse and friends who are generous and broad-minded and thankfully have had only a few such bad experiences. There was one person whom I thought of as a friend who I found out had no compunction in tolerating anything as long as there was no direct consequence. There is no easier way to lose my trust. Not standing up for what is right shows superficiality of character. They who are happy with trappings and the ability to be distracted can get by in life very easily. And the sad thing is that this person epitomizes most of the well-off people I come across.  Have fun, enjoy life – ignore the difficulties of others and revel over your superiority because hell, you have the money!

Its simple really. If you have a friend who is sincere, they will not let someone else trash you or your work or your beliefs. They will not cultivate that relationship once the mask of civility has been lowered even for a split-second. The friends you have are a reflection of you when it comes to core values. If they aren’t, then you will learn the hard way that they really weren’t friends.

Such is life.

I went for a walk in the night. It was drizzling and chilly. I didn’t care. I walked because I wanted to cool down. I walked because I needed the fresh air to ease the burning ache. I walked because when you walk in the rain, no one can see your tears. I don’t know to solve that which is always before me. I have a few days where I can smile and laugh with my heart light and far enough from pain that I actually feel happy. But the rest of the days I just try to cope. There will always be a meltdown or an episode where my child is in a world of pain without a trigger of any kind. I am always on guard. I can never relax. My shoulders feel like they are so wound up they can never unwind. People tell me to chill. To take it easy. Yeah right. There is no easy for me or my son. Walking doesn’t change anything but it loosens some of the more painful knots so I can gulp in mouthfuls of air and remind myself that despite the terrible feeling inside, I am alive.

I came back and sat in the midst of people talking and laughing with no one knowing that all I wanted to do at that point was curl into a ball and try to keep that agonizing hurt under control. The hardest part is the need to put up a façade of cheerfulness. No one likes a sad face. Many would not understand why I am yet unused to these episodes. They will merely say – well you knew this might happen right – all you can do is deal with it. Its true – after so many years perhaps I should be used to it. I should be inured to pain. But I am not. With considerable effort I brought myself back to whatever conversation everyone was having and went on with my evening.

Such is life. No matter how hard I try, I cannot protect my son. I have to sit and watch as he goes through things that no one should have to go through. I cannot help. I am merely a useless witness. If there was some way I could take on the pain that my child lives through so uncomplainingly, I would. But then that is why there is no God – I cannot even for a moment make his life easier when he needs my help the most. I simply watch. I have to be brave. I can’t lose it. I cannot even cry. Such is life.

Self-Entitlement

How many of you have had to work really hard for the things you wanted, even for things you needed? How many of you have felt the frustration of being almost there but not quite? How many of you have felt the terror that comes from the very real possibility that you may lose everything? I am sure many of you have at some time or the other gone through at least one of these scenarios as have I. I am also sure that there are a few who have been able to skim through life on browse mode – never really working hard or meaningfully but coasting along on someone’s luck or compassion for ineptitude. It is possible to live like that – to live as if the world owes you something for your mere existence. 

The idea of self-confidence is something that I believe in. It is great to respect yourself enough so that no one takes you for granted or undervalues you. There is a thin line between confidence and an almost delusional sense of arrogance though. If, because of luck or hard work, you have gained an enviable position in society, confidence is natural. If, however, this very confidence makes you think that you are better than everyone else and deserve to be treated special even when you aren’t doing a thing to earn it, then that is a really quick way to annoy those around you. Even worse are the characters who have always sought excuses for not making it in life. They find ways to be victims. They find faults in everything and everyone other than themselves. They think it is everyone else’s sworn duty to help them. They think that their mere existence entitles them to certain benefits. It is amazing how merit is never in the picture for the self-entitled.

In my line of work and in my personal life I have met a few people I wish I had not come across. In my centre, my partner and I have come across people who are indefatigably helpful and inspiring but we have also known those who come to us and do nothing productive to help the kids. They range from the rare parents who cannot see other special needs kids in roughly the same boat as their kids with even a smidgeon of empathy or compassion to others who wish us to help them in every possible way while themselves doing absolutely nothing to help even their own child. It has made me burn with anger time and again. Is it so hard to open your heart up to help your own child ? Forget about helping other children – if you cannot support your own child who so badly needs unflinching acceptance, then really what is the point?

I also get upset when I find time in life to run a school, take classes, take care of a house, make killer meals, deal with my son who needs that extra help, make sure I don’t neglect my daughter, write, help my husband in his project work as an independent consultant and exercise every single day come rain or shine and I am faced with people who say “Well I tried and it’s not happening. You didn’t help me enough. You didn’t hold my hand. Yes you can do all of that but so what, everyone can’t be like you! You need to do more for me – I am entitled.” I get angry – hell I am angry – I am done trying to help and I am so done expecting even a modicum of courtesy and decency from people who have taken complete advantage of my nature.

If there is a God in heaven, and believe me there are many days when I know there is no such presence, if there is justice in earth or heaven, if there is any meaning to life at all, then the self-entitled would be given short shrift every step of their miserable lives so those who know the value of working hard are left in peace. This life is not easy for many people and while I am not asking for help, I hope that those who choose to be unhelpful can at least refrain from making things more difficult. Have a heart for crying out loud…