An evening out in Accra

I'm coming back to West Africa after over two years yet when I got off the aircraft on Sunday night there was something familiar about the warm humid air and the totally laid back attitude of everyone at the airport in Accra. I was too tiered to chat much with the driver on my way from the airport but we did exchange bits of information about ourselves and he was surprised - or was it horrified - that I had left my ten month old baby solely in the hands of her father! 'Have you left enough instructions for him?' he asked me. 'What will he do when she cries - I hate it when babies cry' he went on. He also told me how he took instructions from his wife, ONLY when his children were babies, and helped her prepare milk bottles in the middle of the night.

Since this was the first time I was leaving Tarana behind I decided to travel for only three days - the days she goes to nursery - so that I would be back in London on Thursday, the day she is spends with me. The flip side to this is that I have had only three days in Ghana and it has been all about work. Though I did step out yesterday evening with two of my colleagues but it was too dark to capture anything on my camera so I'll just have to describe it.

There had been a power cut and most of the city was dark but there were enough sounds from the roads to keep the night alive - tro-tros blowing the horn and stopping too often to pick up more people than they could fit, chitter chatter from the streets, people knocking on our windows to sell crafts, fish or something else. We drove past the Independence Monument and Square. Through my window and in the darkness I could see a column with the black star on top surrounded by broad roads and huge gardens. It looked magnificent and I could imagine solders marching on these roads while the on-looks cheered and clapped during Ghana's annual independence day celebrations. We also drove past the state house and the parliament.

We then drove down some quiet roads, I could hear the waves and knew that the sea wasn't far away. We turned onto a dirt road and I could see, in front of me, big waves crashing against the rocks. We walked down steps - lots of steps - till we reached what looked like a really large cemented deck. A small covered bar stood in the middle of the deck and there were plastic chairs all around. It was beautiful, the deck was basically built on the rocky part of the beach - literally built on the rocks so as we sat at the edge of the deck the waves crashed all around us, under us. It was peaceful, dark and captivating.

Leaving the baby behind

I am sitting at the airport on my way to Ghana. Leaving Tarana behind for 4 full days – a first this year. How do I feel about it? I’m not too sure – the mother in me is certainly feeling anxious and a little low. I can not imagine waking up to anything but the gurgling laughter of my daughter that has been my morning alarm for the last 10 months. The woman in me though is looking forward to the travel. Work itself is interesting, the thought of sleeping through the night without having to wake up to feed Tarana and cooked breakfasts – these little everyday luxuries I am going certainly looking forward to.

First aid course

Ever since I was pregnant I had wanted to go on a First Aid course. I guess taking on the responsibility of a child made me value life in a new kind of way. Disorganised as I am, it took me till last weekend to finally go on one. It was very interesting, though I hope I won't ever have to use the skills I picked up! I do also wonder if I will remember everything I learnt for more than a couple of weeks (even that is long, given my limited memory). The trainer insisted that in most cases adrenalin kicks in and one gets on with what one has to do. Only time will tell what the case with me will be like.

What I found a little amusing were the caveats that most instructions came with. Actually there were two – always call 999 (or the equivalent in other countries) and there is, in most cases the risk of being sued for helping someone out! I couldn’t believe that – someone almost dying of choking, and if I were to save her life she might sue me for stomach injuries (a possible side effect of abdominal thrust) or someone stops breathing and I could get sued for a broken rib (possible side effect of CPR)!

I was most interested in baby and child first aid, and doubt that my nine month is really ready to sue me just yet. Having said all that, I would really recommend this course, especially to new mothers. It isn't too expensive either if you, unlike me, can avoid a huge parking fine.

Diwali

A mother going back to work

I love being a woman. It is always such an interesting - sometimes entertaining sometimes frustrating - experience. I enjoy the preferential treatment it sometimes offers. Well, I don't agree with the principle behind it but as long as I get to stand in a shorter line at the always overcrowded reservation counter at an Indian Railway station, who cares about principles. That probably isn't entirely true. I do get really annoyed by people who think that women can and can not, should and should not do certain things. I can go on ranting about what it means to be a woman so let me get to what I really wanted to share, but before that here is a link you might enjoy - http://www.c-boom.com/women_humor.htm

What I want to write about today is my experience this week - starting work after nine long months and that too, as a mother. It has added a whole new dimension to being a woman. I have issues with a whole bunch of terminologies this world comes up with - this time its 'working mother'. Forget some of the prejudice that comes along with this term, but the term itself doesn't really mean anything. If it is trying to differentiate women who go out to work from those who choose to stay home, it doesn't really do that. After all a mother is always "working" - changing diapers, feeding, playing etc.

I've still not described my experience this week - well, it was complicated, emotionally complicated, to say the least. Was I looking forward to going back to work - if you had asked me that question nine months ago the answer would have been nothing but a very emphatic yes. So what was the answer on Monday? To be honest, I was feeling terribly anxious, a bit nervous and also excited - almost as if it was my first day at work ever. I really enjoy what I do and I can not deny, I did feel like my brain had started to rot a bit so was looking forward to some intellectual stimulation. Was I feeling guilty about leaving Tarana at a nursery - absolutely! My adorable, innocent little daughter and all her naughty charming antics - how could I be doing this to her. Well, of course I had to justify - she'll be independent, social and all the germs will only strengthen her immunity I told myself. All the contradictory feelings made the first week an emotional roller coaster ride.

Love in the time of Diarrhea

Three days in a nursery and Tarana came back with a bug - she has had diarrhea and vomiting over the last two nights. Most friends with kids warned us about this but I guess we didn't take it seriously enough till now. A sick baby is difficult in every way - for the baby (it's just not fair how helpless they look and feel), for the parents (endless worry, sleepless nights and long days) and for everyone around.

It is, I guess, a little strange then that I am writing about revitalising moments of love and affection that this situation has brought along --- Robin and I staying up through the night, not to curl up in bed and chat but to rock our daughter to sleep and change her dirty diapers; making each other coffee and toast, not as an accompaniment to television but as the only thing we have time to eat for dinner. We had a book club evening yesterday and both of us absolutely loved reading Salmon Fishing in the Yemen and were very excited about discussing it with everyone. But given T's health we decided not to go. Well actually both of us tried convincing the other to go but I think we wanted to share the difficult evening and cuddle our daughter together. Well, maybe not share the difficult evening, but certainly cuddle the daughter! Anyway, this morning was the most refreshing - Robin had gone to the neighbourhood pharmacy to pick up some stuff for T and since we haven't had breakfast in the last few days I quickly put together a sandwich that he could eat on his way to work. He got back quickly and was in a bigger rush to leave again when I handed him the sandwiches and he me, a bag with warm fresh croissants. We'd both got each other some breakfast!

Time for nursery

I can't believe it is already time for Tarana to go to nursery and me to join work. This week we are settling Tarana into the nursery which basically means that she spends a few hours every day to familiarise herself with it. We have chosen to put her into a nursery called Scribbles. So far it seems nice - housed in a church building (since a very small proportion of the UK population goes to church most churches have had to sell or rent out the church building. Some are even pubs and nightclubs!) Anyway, a church building makes a lovely spacious nursery - large rooms, big windows that let in a lot of light, and a decent amount of outside space for the kids to play in. Scribbles is about a 15 minute walk from our house and therefore easy for Robin to drop her off and me to pick her up. Hopefully she will be used to her new routine by next Monday - when I go back to work.

She embarrassed us a bit on her first day by tugging at a child's hair (he was twice her size too) and grabbing at another child's biscuit - all in the first 10 minutes! Today I left her there for 2 hours (that included a short nap time) while I enjoyed a cup of coffee and a delicious fresh sandwich at our local Italian delicatessen.

Sunny weekend in September

I was recently viewing photographs of a friends on facebook and absolutely loved her story-like captions. I have copied her idea (though not as well) in these photos.

Supersititions

Am I superstitious? I hope not. Though being an Indian, it probably is a part of my genetic profile. One of the big Indian superstitious is the belief in 'the evil eye'. There are a lot of old cultures across the world that also believe in it so it is probably not a big deal that almost everyone across the entire Indian sub-continent tries to keep the 'evil eye' out of their lives. How? That depends on what you are up to or where in the country you come from. For example in the north of the country people hang ugly masks on the front of their houses to keep the 'evil eye' away. The neighbourhood thought there was something wrong with my parents as they refused to hang an obnoxious mask from the front terrace of their new house. If its a new car it needs to drive over some lemon and if its a baby we cover them in black dots and black thread. Neither of which seem to have made a dent on the number of road accidents or high infant mortality in the country.

I, obviously, refused to do any of that with Tarana. During my trip to India a couple of 'aunties' insisted that I make my baby look more 'desi' by doing some of these things and I laughed them off. But today I am in a slight fix.

My brother has brought Tarana a 'Tlismi moti' - a small pearl on a black thread. When I was in India I met a few people who swore by the Tlismi moti as the only cure to teething pain. My mother therefore decided to source it - she asked a cousin who lives in Hyderabad (the main source for these pearls) to bring it with her to Jodhpur when she came around to visit my grandmother. My mom then couriered it to my brother who has now brought it to London. Given the emotion and effort behind this I feel absolutely obliged to tie it around T's neck. I've read a bit about it and some people in the e-world also seem to swear by it. The scientific (research based on the very authentic internet based scientific information!) view seems to be that this pearl releases a calming effect when in contact with warm skin. No, I don't absolutely believe it, and yes I am embarrassed of my daughter walking around with a black thread but she'll wear it to remind us all of the absolutely loving yet quirky grandmother she has.

All grown up...

I have been very excited - my brother, with a couple of friends has come to London to visit us. He hasn't come over since we moved to London even though Dad and Mom have been here twice. I guess, during our initial years here he was busy with an MBA and then doing what young graduates do - long hours and no holidays at their first jobs in a bank. Anyway, I'm glad he has finally got some time off (though only 10 days, I wish it had been twice as long) to come over.

I often look at Tarana and feel like this year has gone by too soon but when, waiting in the long line at the airport car park I reflected back on life - it felt like only yesterday that Karan and I were growing up together in my parents home - fighting over candy and complaining to mom about each others antics. Before I know it here we are - living in two different countries. Me with a baby and husband and my little brother with a proper grown up job.

Pictures at our local park

Small steps...big step

Until I had my own, I never realised how magical (and yes a little exhausting) it is to watch a child grow up. Tarana's first eight months have had lots of little milestones - smiling, rolling over, eating solid food etc. The latest one - standing up and taking a few supported steps - almost feels like a miracle. I can't believe that this is the same little girl who, just eight months ago, couldn't even follow an object with her eyes! Of course with every new ability comes some catastrophic side effects - once she had learnt to grab things she soon figured out how to shove them into her mouth (so there was my cue to stop sanitising - how can one mother ever sanitise the planet). Now that she is standing and almost walking I can see a lot more trouble heading our way.

Here are a few pictures of her doing her drunken balancing act.

The Spaniards Inn

The Spaniards, a pub across the road from Hampstead Heath is not more than a 10 minute walk from our house. Since we've moved to our flat, we cross it at least once a week and have always thought about going there for Sunday roast. Using Robin's birthday as an excuse, we finally went there last Sunday.

The approach to Spaniards is wooded and green because of the heath and the road, an otherwise busy city road, turns into a narrow, winding country road just at Spaniards because the pub and the 18th century toll keeper's cottage (across the road from the pub) are both listed buildings and can not be altered. A pain for parents doing school rounds in the morning, but quintessentially an English country side feel for those who visit this place occasionally.

The pub lived up to our expectations - a fascinating old building with a beautifully maintained large garden, dark low beams and paneling, sloping creaky wooden floors, good food, and the biggest collection of beers (including a strawberry flavored one) that I have ever seen. We had booked the upstairs dining room - a lovely large wooden room with some old style chairs and small windows leaning onto the road.

Here are a few pictures from Sunday:

Poetry

I have never been a big reader of poetry. Though, during school where there was little escape from it given the CBSE English syllabus included poetry in each of my 12 years at school. In fact, I remember enjoying most of the poem we studied. In those days (alas, I am part of the generation that starts conversations with 'in those days'), most of the poetry we studied was from outside India - William Wordsworth, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson etc. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that the revised syllabus includes a number of Indian poets.

When our book club chose a book of poetry this month, it was a departure from usual reading for most of us. Initially I was a little skeptical, as I knew I would not make the effort to finish the book if I didn't enjoy the first ten or so poems.

So, this weekend, while we were in Enford, a small village near Salisbury, we decided to read some of the poems from 'Birthday Letters' by Ted Hughes. I don't know if it was the setting - sitting by the fire on big, comfortable queen chairs in a warm, beautiful and typically English country house; or the poems - Ted Hughes's simple style in these poems dedicated to Sylvia Plath. I suspect that it was a combination of the two that got me engrossed in the poetry and now I am thoroughly enjoying the book. The language is beautiful and the figures of speech, colourful making it easy to associate with Plath's personality, her life and their relationship. Will I go into the stores and pick up more poetry? I don't know yet.

Pics form the weekend

Evoling relationships - father, mother and daughter

Today was the first day in over seven months that I have left Tarana alone, for an entire day, with her father. I was going into work as part of my 'staying in touch days'. Besides feeling anxious, given my brain has been hibernating for seven months, I also had a strange (and unexpected) sinking feeling when I watched Tarana smiling at me as I walked out of the door and down the staircase. I almost wanted her to 'show' that she missed me a little more than her big, excited and obviously ignorant of what was going on smile let out. Don't get me wrong, I have always wanted my child to be independent (well yes, as independent as a gurgling seven month old can be) and therefore today was a realisation of sorts - of how emotionally independent from my child I think I am but really, am not; and more importantly of how selfless a parents support and nurturing really needs to be.

The other very important outcome of walking out of the house today was providing space for father-daughter time. Robin hasn't been around much since Tarana was born - not because he doesn't want to be but because he is having a manic year at work. A week after she was born he traveled to Bangladesh, three months later he left us to be in Sudan for two and a half months (while T and I went to India - which was rather nice ofcourse), and last week he was back in Sudan and Kenya. So leaving the two of them alone seems like an essential start to letting them work out their relationship. Was I skeptical about Robin's capability? Absolutely! I am a woman. I do not think that a man can effectively multi-task and manage a household to the high standards of a woman.

I had a friend, also a mother to two beautiful children, tell me last weekend that 'men are basically selfish because they instinctively choose work over family commitments'. I wouldn't call Robin selfish but 'practical'. Maybe I'm just being a defensive wife. Practical - that really is Robin's most defining characteristic. He doesn't believe in 'emotional' solutions where one person might be making a 'sacrifice' for the other. He believes that in all relationships and at all times one can achieve an optimal solution that benefits everybody. I totally disagreed with that and a day with Tarana suddenly challenged his theory - though I don't think he has realised it yet. Or maybe Tarana and him are happy to do things differently in their relationship. Either way and in-spite of blaming the mother at the end of the day for it all going a bit tipsy, I do think a few days with her alone will help Robin figure out a parenting style that works not just for him but for both of them. For he will realise, sooner than later, that a seven month old doesn't stop whining till she gets just what she wants! The harder bit is going to be for me to be OK with his style of parenting where it differs from mine. (Ofcourse, there is always an option to add it to the list of things I nag him about or to make it a little more challenging by throwing in cooking, shopping, cleaning, ironing, laundry, banking and holiday planning into the next few days that he is home!)

110,000 cases of swine flu...

...in England last week and I am now a part of that statistic. Did I have swine flu? Thankfully not. But does that really matter? Well this is what happened. Sometime last week I came down with fever, a slight dry cough and body ache. I was pretty sure it wasn't swine flu but just a result of an exhausting day when I also managed to skip lunch. Skipping a meal is something that my body can just not take - the sign of retaliation is an irritated Tulika, followed by a headache and finally fever.

On any other day I would have just drugged myself with stuff available over the counter for one day and been better on the next. This time, with Robin leaving for Sudan and me having to manage Tarana by myself, I decided it might be sensible to see a doctor. Nothing new about the experience with NHS - since I wasn't dying or giving birth the GP wasn't interested in looking at me and the moment I mentioned flu like symptoms even less so. So what am I to do? I asked. 'Call the Swine flu helpline' came the response. There is a lot being written about the swine flu helpline over the past couple of weeks - good, bad and the ugly. So it was just too tempting to not call.

After the pleasant, though medically unqualified, person on the other end of the phone had ascertained that I was not chocking or bleeding to death he decided I did after all have 'flu like symptoms' and prescribed Tamiflu. Robin, Tarana and I trekked across to the Finchley Memorial Hospital to pick it up but since I wasn't convinced that I really had the swine flu I decided to just overdose of Lemsip - 2 days and I was cured!

I understand that the government wants to hype up the numbers (by including anyone with flu like symptoms in the swine flu list) to show how overworked the NHS is, how impossible it is to test everyone etc. But if people are getting paranoid because they constantly read about the exponentially increasing cases, hyping up the numbers doesn't really help does it?