Marooned!

Yesterday morning I was awakened by young boys loudly talking or fighting with each other on the road. It had been raining throughout the night and my only thought was whether I would need to send Ash to school. I lazily decided not to and snuggled under my bedsheet.

After half an hour's attempt to shut my ears to the din, I got up to have a look from my bedroom window. I saw young boys carrying things (in that half-sleepy state I couldnt make out what they were carrying) and wading through the waterlogged street. The street looked like a big stream, and people were trying to salvage a few things as they left their homes for dry land. An auto driver was pushing his auto to safety. Dolls, sandals, sieves and brooms flowed past. There was waist-deep water to the far end. In front of my flat it was only knee-deep.

The whole day we could do nothing but watch the water levels rise. Apparently the canal two blocks behind my apartment was overflowing after the excess water from the Chembarambakkam reservoir was released. Water mixed in sewage, we hear. The worst part was having to manage without power supply. Electricity was cut off at 4 am once the streets started flooding to prevent people from getting electrocuted by underground cables. It still hasnt come, and is expected back only by tomorrow. No milk, no newspapers, no TV - it was a return to primitive times. We learnt to have early dinners and eat by candelight, and realised why people in olden times went to bed early and rose early. For once, we had no plans or programmes for the day. A true staycation to the kids' delight. (Here they are, pretending to be lying on the berths of a train using a chair and dressing table)

No schools, no offices either. Most of us cried off. Today however the office sent a Qualis to pick me up for work. The waters got deeper at the corner of my street, and the big vehicle was half submerged in water. But two streets away it was nice and dry. The sun was shining at last, and the main roads showed no signs of the ravages of the weather.

p.s. A hurried post in a work break. Have a nice weekend, everybody.

Changing times

It is pouring cats and dogs in Chennai. Schools and colleges got a holiday courtesy the State government, so my plans of sending Ash to school from today on didnt materialise. I had met his teacher yesterday to submit Ash's medical certificate and had expressed confidence about sending him from today.

Syrup Predone has cleared his face and the remnant dead, dark skin is peeling away to reveal fresh, light skin. The dermatologist and the peadiatrician told us that we stop it after today's dose. The light therapy continues for a few more days. But we are worried if the rain will revert his skin to its former misery.

With the onset of the rains, Mira's favorite rhyme is "I hear thunder... I am wet through". She sang the same for my Aunt Kochammama who called from Kerala today.

Mira is turning out to be a handful for us. Yesterday morning she got dropped in school in a Ford Fiesta belonging to V's colleague who has asked him to use it occasionally following his transfer to Delhi. So when V went to pick her up in our Zen, she was miffed. 'Where is the other good car,' she asked. 'I dont want this panna (bad) car. This has no music, bring the other one,' she ordered.

And just that morning V had been telling me that the kids would get too haughty if we used cars like that. But these are different times. Not like our childhood days when an aeroplane flying high up in the sky or an occasional taxi ride was a source of enjoyment and happiness. When public buses were luxury and when two-dozen bullock carts streaming in twilight on Thursday evenings to the Parakode chanta (market) were a sheer pleasure to watch.

Thank God I grew up in less complicated times when simple things, simple games entertained us - not video games, not DVDs, not even television.

Mia these days

Examining a Barbie doll (or a similar Chinese brand) that was gifted by a friend of mine. I had kept it away until recently because I didnt want the doll looking like a rag doll in a matter of 2 days. Both brother and sister immediately pulled up the doll's frock and examined its plastic bum. "Apee, apee," they screeched, highly tickled to see an improperly dressed doll.

Ready for school with her hair well oiled and washed (bathing is a ritual morning, noon and night for the kids), and wearing the blue frock with great reluctance. In fact I had to use V's services to make her wear it. He is the only authority at home she listens to without a murmur.

With Jason, the Mamma's Pet, who came visiting last Friday. She calls him Jathon vaava.

p.s. Ash has been put on prednisolone (oral steroids) by his peadiatrician. The suffering had been unbearable the past two days and we couldnt meet the dermatologist today. The UV was increased from 1.5 minutes to 3 min on Friday.

Messy meals

I had a lunch date today. With my husband. At nearly 10 years of marital bliss and two Under-5s who sap all our energy, there has not been much occasion for an outing alone. Never mind if I had to walk half the way to the destination to get picked up by my date or if I developed a headache walking in the hot sun. That is as romantic as a husband of 10 years can get, that too a Malayali Syrian Christian from the Kottayam region.

V, refreshed by memories of the mouth-watering meals at the Nair Mess in Triplicane, decided to skip his lunch at home. The modest restaurant, catering to those with a yearning for authentic Malayali food, has been spruced up. Today it was more crowded than usual. Political leaders and activists in khadi shirts and veshti occupied a good part of the small air-conditioned hall on the first floor. It was just as crowded as the ground floor ac-less hall.

We played musical chairs to grab two seats in a four-seater table. But the food was worth the lack of privacy. A lip-smacking seer fish curry that saw me through the whole meal without the usual sambar and rasam and buttermilk. In fact the sambar tasted no good; anyway Malayalis cant be blamed for making bad sambars. It is not in our genes. The side dishes of beetroot and something which looked like an avial (V tells me it is a banana kootu) and lime pickle were so-so. The huge seer fish fry tasted good until we saw the price in the bill - Rs. 65 for a single piece of fish fry. The fish curry, we learnt, was extra too. The meals are charged at Rs. 41 in the ac hall and Rs.23, I hear, in the ac-less hall. All the items in the menu cost less than half the price marked for the ac hall.

We soon had two elderly gentlemen sitting opposite and ordering all non-veg possible. Fish fry, mutton curry, beef fry and what not. And here I couldnt tuck in a bowl of rice. My appetite has shrunk in recent times, which is a good thing as I cant afford to eat too much and have my blood sugar levels shooting up and refusing to come down.

I only hope the kids didnt keep waiting for their dad to turn up for lunch. We told the maid he wont but kids are kids and their expectations always run high.

Back with a whimper

Being a lean week at work, I took 3 days' leave beginning Monday to look after Ash. Saturday's UV radiation itself had done him a world of good. The cracked skin began to heal and new, fairer skin began to show up.

On the doctor's advice, we got bold enough to try introduce all food except peanuts and soybean in his diet. The first day we tried seer fish and he seemed ok. Of course the night itching continued to some extent. But yesterday's diet experiements with fish, french fries and tomato sauce went awry. Maybe it was the preservatives in the sauce. He itched like hell yesterday and the skin began to look worrying again. I guess we have to shelve our experiments till he is better.

He has completed 3 UV sessions. The nurse told us yesterday that Ash was a brave lil fellow to stand in the UV chamber alone when even 10-yr-old kids cried in fear. Our only worry is if he will open his eyes or remove the adult goggles provided - but I think he is enjoying wearing the goggles the most - so V keeps bellowing instructions. The doctor will see him after tomorrow's therapy.

Today he jumped out of bed at 7 am wanting to go to school, but after a while changed tack. Achacha mogham murinjirikuvaa (my face is all bruised), he explains. He has also changed the diet rules. "Chochchil maarathilla (This itching wont go). I will eat and scratch myself," he tells me when I tell him that he can have something after his itching is gone.

As for me, I did not get much rest or time to read even the newspaper while I was on leave. The kids, excited to have their mother at home for a change, had a whale of a time in the afternoons. While the maid napped, I managed at the most a 3-minute nap to be awakened by a shriek or a slap.

I also tried to make up for the lack of attention I gave Mira in the last week when Ash was the focal point of our attention. She has been coming to me with an imaginary itch, some which she claims are caused by mosquito bites, and expects me to rub in some ointment. We shudder to think what we'd have gone through if it were Mira who had the eczema and not Ash. Ash, save for his occasional tantrums, is an uncomplaining child and suffers in silence. Only, in recent times he cannot seem to take the suffering in silence anymore.

Ultraviolet therapy

Ash began UV phototherapy treatment for his eczema flare-up today. The doctor feels that 2 weeks of it will visibly clear the eczema, which right now is severe on the face and scalp and leave them cracked, weeping and scaling endlessly. She sent him into a UV chamber with goggles and his briefs on. It hardly takes 2-3 minutes, and he looked a little better than when the doctor clicked his pictures in her room before the therapy. He will probably be an interesting case study for them when they hold conferences and workshops!

Well, the treatment is at SMF under Dr. Sarveshwari, a dermatologist who studied under Dr. Patrick. Our plans for an emergency appointment yesterday with Dr. Patrick did not work out, since the doctor is a man with many other engagements and meetings. Ash's condition was the pits, so I tried Dr. Maya Vedamurthy who a few folks vouched was an excellent dermatologist. She is unavailable till next Wednesday.

And with Ash shivering and his teeth jabbering the moment we wet his skin a bit before applying the emollient, V decided to check with his peadiatrician at SMF. Dr. Thomas suggested that we meet Dr. Sarveshwari, and if need be, admit him in the children's hospital on Monday which right now is overflowing with in-patients.

Dr. Sar saw him at her clinic yesterday night and said that the situation can be redeemed only by phototherapy for 2 weeks. If he gets no better, he has to take steroid shots. UV therapy is safe for children and pregnant women, she said. Unlike direct exposure to sunlight, which has many harmful rays other than ultraviolet, this is a safe treatment option for severe eczema.

Ash followed instructions and handled the therapy well. He did not mind being shut in the chamber and the room encasing it. It needs to be done every alternate day. Hopefully he can resume school after a week.

Artist at home

Ash dabbles a lot with paint, and comes up with interesting sketches too.

A family photo :)

This last one is a self-portrait (the marks on the face, he says, is the result of his scratching!). The one on the left of the same is a portrait of his dad :)

There is one of me, which I will put up if I find it.

Well, I cant find it. It probably went into the dustbin. It goes something like this: Ash draws a face and then two circles down where the trunk is. When V asks him what it is, he thumps his chest and says: Amma's...

Over the week

Apologies! Blogging took a back seat in the last few days for a variety of reasons - initially because I had nothing to report, then because the Internet played tricks on us, and then I got busy at work and busier at home.

Caring for Ash takes up most of our time at home, since his skin doesnt seem to be getting any better. We are on the verge of despair and bad health, owing to nights spent moisturising him and preventing him from scratching all the skin off his body. The force with which he scratches himself with his trimmed nails can be felt when we get in the way and get pinched in the process.

I met his class teacher teacher yesterday and she sounded pained to see him suffer. The teacher has advised that we keep him at home until he gets better, since he slept a good part of his 2-day stint in school last week. She tells me not to worry about attendance and anyway he picks up fast whatever she teaches. She tells me that he is not active like earlier. The sedatives I give him at night take effect in the morning, I guess.

Ash has a love-hate relationship with his teacher. The last time I went to his school, he told me: "Amma, teacherinu oru adi kodukanne (please beat teacher). She doesnt play the rhymes I ask her to." At other times, he stashes things away in his bag to give her.

He is also getting too smart for us. When V takes him out for a ride on Saturday, he spots a shop he wants to check out. V tells him he has no money to buy toys. "Pay by card, Appa," he advises his dad. He then spots the ATM his dad frequents and drags him in there to withdraw cash.

He has been insisting on buying a Noddy something which he had spotted in a shop sometime back. I make some searches and discover that it is a Noddy track set from Funskool. Luckily we know a couple of folks who work in Funskool (from the MRF group) and can get us a good discount for it.

Today both kids are at home. Mira, because we did not wake up in time to send her to school! How irresponsible can parents get!

p.s. I am reading Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner, and I am absolutely loving it. I guess it is a bit late to read a book that was published in 2003, but then I am just beginning to read DH Lawrence's Son and Lovers too (which I didnt get round to reading as a student of Eng. Litt.) !

It has helped learn more about a country and its people I knew nothing much about save for the crazy Taliban and their destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas. The story may sound familiar to people in India used to Hindi movie plots but the narrative is excellent. I am waiting to watch the movie, which is to be released soon.

Oh!

I am glad beyond words that Obama has made it. It makes up for the mighty disappointment of Al Gore having had to bow out in 2000.

Though the Democrat win doesnt bode well for India, since US companies that outsource work (to countries like India) will be taxed more.

***

Ash finally got ready to re-enter school but unfortunately the van did not turn up. A teacher in his school, suffering from cancer, passed away yesterday. It can be so disappointing when you spend 45 minutes getting an obstinately sleepy boy out of bed, brushing his teeth, oil-massaging him, bathing him, then moisturising his body before the water dries out, dressing him up and feeding him (the most difficult part), giving his medicines and packing his bag with books, snacks and water before the van honks at the door.

Mia who has a bad cough hasnt attended school this week.

Bedtime rituals

Telling a bedtime story is not a ritual with us. But this past one week, Ash has been insisting on a bedtime story. A ritual V had started at odd hours in the night to get Ash to sleep. V is exhausting his repertoire of stories, so maybe I will have to chip in soon. Maybe subscribe to Balarama which had sustained my thirst for stories in childhood.
p.s. There's nothing much to say otherwise. We skipped church for the third week in a row (thanks to sleepless nights and a viral fever this weekend) and made up for it with a pilgrimage to the Besant Nagar Velankanni church and beach.
And yesterday I checked out the Joy Alukkas showroom in Chennai, beleived to be their biggest jewellery store. I didnt have time to assess its size and made a quick purchase for the maid (who has preferred to convert her salary into the yellow metal) and for myself (a pair of ear rings). The only jewellery that fascinates me are ear rings. I almost bought a pair for Mira too but V has forbidden any more for her. She is looking at the mirror too much as it is, he says!

Festival of fireworks

There's something that I forgot to tell you all. Deepavali/Diwali just went past. Not only did we all get a holiday on Monday, I got a packet of Sri Krishna Sweets and bonus from the office. The bonus is one thing that adds some zing to the drudgery of work. The sweets no longer hold much fascination for any of us at home, since we are on a glucose-free and fat-free diet, and so I dutifully passed it on to the watchman.

Ash began clamouring for crackers on Thursday, so we got some on Friday and burst them on the terrace. The smoke was the last thing that Ash's skin could take, but we did not have the heart to kill the boy's excitement.

And on Monday night, we joined V's colleague and family for a potluck supper (well, I just contributed beef curry) and more fireworks. Ash was thrilled but Mira was frightened stiff and wanted to go back home.

However it wasnt too noisy on Monday since the North Indian Diwali fell on Tuesday.

This came on Diwali day from a neighbour who is a pretty good cook. There is murukku (clockwise from top), thattu, athirasam, beetroot halwa (which was damn tasty) and medhu-vadai (made from black gram).

Though traditionally called a festival of lights, Deepavali these days is a festival of fireworks and milk sweets. A time for new clothes, new jewellery, new films at the theatre, though this year reports say that people were a bit more subdued and cautious about splurging.

The financial crisis is having its ripple effect here too. A sister-concern of V's firm has given quit notices to 2,000 staff, another 3,000 are likely to follow. And the IT-wallahs who lived for today with not a thought about tomorrow are going to find things really tough.