Child free evenings

This situation, of Tarana spending a month with her grand parents while her parents party in London, is turning out to be rather good for everyone. Tarana loves the excessive pampering - sleeping on the bed between her grandparents, being fed while she discovers the corners of my parents garden, millions of cuddles...its an endless list. My parents, of course, just love having her around. My mother's face can not hide her pride and excitement when, on skype, I watch Tarana run to her and give her an unstoppable number of slobbery kisses. Robin and I are absolutely loving the short term freedom from parenting by being out every single night. If we find ourselves without friends to hang out with on a particular evening, we find a film to go watch at the cinema.

There are still a number of films that we haven't seen this year so when we headed to the cinema a couple of nights ago, I was secretly hoping that I could change Robin's mind about watching Avatar. I am not a big science fiction fan and blue creatures with tails just didn't seem too appealing. However, I couldn't change his mind and we ended up going to watch it. I stepped into the hall skeptial and a hundred percent convinced that I was going to hate it. Obviously, the opposite happened. I just loved the film!

The film is an absolute visual feast - the forest itself, Pandora - where the blue creatures called Navis live - is a spectacle. The film mesmerised me – I was lost in this new world. 3D aside, I felt like a part of Pandora because James Cameroon had thought of every minute detail to make this fantasy world more real than my real world. Though everyone constantly talks about the technical and visual effects of Avatar, I also enjoyed the love story in the middle of it all. The two Navis discovering each others quirks, falling in love, walking hand in hand into the forest with its glowing plants, the romantic many moon lit night - oh, so adorable.

Surman

I had written about the one big drawback of the passport episode in an earlier email – i.e. that Robin wasn’t with us on Tarana’s first birthday. We really missed him that day and without him around we just didn’t feel like big celebrations. All we did was get Tarana to cut a cake (she looked adorable in her birthday hat).

We also shared the birthday joy with 44 beautiful children in a privately run orphanage called Surman. I have to share what we saw and experienced in Surman – it was extremely heart warming. Surman was started by an inspiring young woman – Manam – who is a trained fashion designer. Manam, after seeing a young girl dressed in tattered clothes searching for food in a garbage dump, decided that she had to help such orphaned children in the city of Jaipur. What started with one child has grown to include 44 children. They all live with her, her husband and her two daughters in their warm little two bedroom flat. It is almost unfair to call this place an orphanage – it is more like a large family home. That is how Surman is run.

There is a story behind each child at Surman. One girl, now about 3 years old, was picked up by Manam a few hours after she was abandoned (wrapped in a newspaper) in a garbage bin outside a hospital. Their newest member, now almost a month old was found crying on a vacant plot of land – left there in the desert cold a few hours after she was born. All these children lost a family when they were born, only to find a happier and warmer family in Surman.

The children at Surman, like all other children their age, are noisy, mischievous and inquisitive. Some of them were delighted to see Tarana and gave her their toys to play with. Some girls played with Tarana’s hair – gave her their clips and hairband. Tarana, of course, enjoyed it all!

Bringing up children in an opinionated world

I totally agree with something that Shabana Azmi said ages ago on a random TV show. She said, the malaise with us Indians is that we have too many opinions without enough information. I feel that statement is so applicable to 80% of the worlds populations - including the overly opinionated me.

Things really get messy when we have strong opinions based on information that we think is correct but really isn't. I truly enjoy opinionated people so obviously I like Malcolm Gladwell's books as they are all highly opinionated, convincingly written and gripping. Having said that, I honestly believe that he, like many others, use scenarios and examples to prove what they want to prove. Of course, rigorous research methodologies can minimise the effect of variables to ensure highly accurate results - but that is true in the case of laboratory like environments not human behaviour. Human being are so vastly different from each other, and also change significantly in new social, cultural or economic environments, and so I don't believe we can predict, with certainty, anything about their future behaviour based on a few, if not a single, factor (month of birth, for example). Primarily because we are such complex creatures with a phenomenal control over our lives and are driven by aspirations, happiness and self defined goals that will not, in any way, allow us to leave ourselves to fate, destiny or circumstance (month of birth, for example).

What annoys me the most, however, is how this kind of the research gets straight into the minds of the already stressed middle class mothers. I do realise that as a mother, I am taking the license to rant at mothers.

Lots of mothers try to control their children's environment often wanting to recreate the environment in which they grew up. What happened to the concepts of appropriate time and place, and evolution? Anyway, didn't we escape that environment the first chance we got? They try to provide the best opportunities for their child (read putting them through every extra-curricular activity that money can buy and time can permit).

The moment a mother has just about managed to perfectly juggle all these balls a convincing convenient piece of research comes along and gets added to this big bunch of juggling balls in the air! I look at them - the mothers, the balls - and worry about not worrying like they do. However, kids are not robots that can be programmed to live the 'most appropriate' life (If I really could programme Tarana, then she would be doing my laundry, making my bed...). Seriously though, if I could programme Tarana, I would limit her to only what I know and have achieved. Instead, I hope I can give her a flexible and comforting sense of space where she can grow and learn through her own experiences that, I hope, are much greater and more beautiful than mine.

A first

It has happened so many times that it feels like the only way. Rushing to catch a flight or train that is. I often get to an aircraft just when the gates are closing and to a platform just when the light turns green. It wasn't too different this time. I was catching a train from Jaipur to Delhi and since the station was only seven minutes from my parents’ house, I was even more complacent. What got me a little worried was the thunder, lightning and heavy rain that started as soon as we sat in the car. With Dad's skillful driving, we managed to quickly manoeuvre through the chaotic roads and made it to the station in less than ten minutes.

Mom tucked Tarana in her arms, I shielded them under Dad's huge golf umbrella and Dad carried all my bags while we ran up and then down the crowded steps to the platform. 'Two minutes to the train' announced a woman on the loudspeaker - just enough time for me to grab something from the bookstore but not enough to absorb the smells, sounds and crowds of the busy platform. The train came. Dad and I climbed in with my bags, found my designated seat, dumped the luggage and ran back out.

I could not believe that I was doing this - leaving Tarana behind. A first. There have been many memorable firsts in my life, some extremely special ones since Tarana was born - from holding her in my arms one year ago to watching her take her first independent steps a few weeks ago. This, however, was different. Bitter. Sweet. The separation and the distance (London to Jaipur) felt bitter. The precious time she was going to spend with her doting, loving, cuddling and pampering grandparents was sweet.

I don't have words to describe that moment when we said good bye. The train had started to move; I felt my heart sink but couldn't let T see me cry. I waved, smiled, said good bye and kept waving. She knew something was happening; I could see it in her eyes. She reached out her hand and said 'dede' 'dede'. She didn't shed a tear. I didn't shed a tear. We just let the distance between our fingertips grow as the train picked up speed. I could hear her 'dede' ring in my ears.

It has now been more than 24 hours and Mom says that T hasn't shown any other signs of missing me. She has been enjoying her days - toys, food, sleep, gurgling, and a couple of special treats - an evening with horses in the Polo grounds and kite flying on the roof. I enjoyed my first day without her too - got a head massage, then walked the streets of Delhi, lunch on the roof of a building in Connaught Place, long chats with Des, some delicious dinner with Karan and then rushing to the airport only to spend four and a half hours waiting to get onto the flight (dense fog in New Delhi).

Once I got onto the aircraft I started to scribble and halfway through this scribble I started to miss my little baby. At least my motherly instincts are still alive - I had started to feel a little guilty about not feeling guilty about leaving T behind. Anyway, I didn’t feel guilty for long enough to sob too much. Afterall I had to make the most of the nine hours on the flight and watch at least three movies!

A great wedding (contd.)

The wedding itself was at a lovely church in Kochi. Kerala has no quiet corners and so the church was on one of the many winding, busy roads with little colourful shops selling loads of tack. However, once I walked into the church with its high ceilings, rows of wooden benches, big doors and stained glass windows I was surprised at how quickly the sounds and chaos of the road outside vanished. All I could hear was the beautiful comforting silence of the church with occasional chatter from Tarana, Keshu and Sachin.

The church slowly filled up with beautifully dressed people – women in saris and lehengas, and men in shervanis. Pete’s big watermelon smile (as some people aptly call it) couldn’t hide the excitement in his searching eyes that were just waiting to see his bride. She walked in behind the church choir, her bridesmaids and bridesma, and beside her smartly dressed brother.

Tarana refused to understand why she wasn’t allowed to play peek-a-boo with the people sitting behind her; shout out to her Appa who was standing at the front of the church and right behind the groom; or jump up and down on the benches while singing her out of tune, gurgling rhymes. Therefore I spent a good part of the ceremony playing with Tarana on the corridors outside the church.
The delicious lunch that followed and half successful attempts to play mischief in the newly wed couple’s hotel room (at least they didn’t find one of the hidden alarm clocks that woke them up early in the morning) was all great fun. Pete and Liz planned the perfect finale to this fun wedding – we all drove down in two big busses to Athirapally and spent a night in the Rain Forest Resort, a beautiful resort facing the waterfall. The last night of good food, sentimental speeches and endless dancing I will remember fondly forever.

A great wedding

I love everything about weddings – the rituals, dressing up, drinking, dancing et all. But this particular wedding, of a really close friend (Pete with Liz) that brought together other friends from across the world in beautiful, sunny and tropical Kerala was more special than any I have been to in a long time. The wedding itself was perfectly planned. It all started off with a lovely evening in the gardens of the Kochi Yacht Club overlooking the backwaters. We all enjoyed catching up with each other and exchanging stories of the past – lots of conversations started with ‘when we were together in…’ and ended with loud, hearty laughter. The women loved the mehendi and bangle corner while the jet lagged kids slept in buggies, car seats or their parent’s arms.
The next morning Robin and I woke up with pretty Keshini and sleepy Sachin, who had left thier parents in the room next door, walking into our room looking for Tarana. Robin and I let the kids entertain each other while we tried to catch a few more minutes of sleep – rather impossible with not one but three little imps jumping around in our small hotel room.
Since our rooms were all on the same floor, dressing up for the wedding was great fun. After all, girl friends, unlike husbands, don’t need to be prodded a million times for comments on what’s looking good and what is not.
More about the wedding itself, tomorrow.

An extended trip

Isn’t it sometimes impossible to understand why certain things happen? It is Tarana’s first birthday today, and T and I am stuck in India because we have lost our passports! Robin is back in London – so on her first birthday Tarana is going to be missing out on hugs from her Appa. She is getting excessive attention from her grandparents instead!

Not that she has a clue that today is any different – she woken up like on any other day making loud noises and ready to pull the house down with her naughty antics. I'm sure she would rather spend every extra day she can in her grandparents sunny garden than be snowed in in cold London. Though her Appa, and his tight bear hugs she certianly misses.

The new hairdresser

I have been going to the same hair-dresser in Delhi for five years so when I called the beauty salon for an appointment and they told me that she had left, I went through momentary depression. A long conversation later the lady at the other end managed to convince me to try someone new.

I stepped in at the appointed time and the lady at the reception walked me to a chair while calling out to 'Sunny'. A few minutes later Sunny emerged - a trendy man in his early twenties, wearing tight jeans, a fitted shirt and a 'cool' hairdo. He smiled at me, walked straight to a drawer, pulled out his 'holster', tied it around his waist, walked around the room, picked up all his favorite weapons (scissors, comb, sprays etc) and secured it in the the holster. I wasn't sure if I should be impressed or laugh out loud. I just kept smiling.

The experience was phenomenal - I am absolutely in love with my new hair dresser and my new hair do. His panache grew on me. At times he worked like a perfectionist with the concentration of a surgeon and at other times with the style of a flamingo dancer.

Tarana's latest favorite gadget

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!