Toys

Ashwin is alarmed when I speak to him the other day: 'I cant find the garbage truck, only the fire engine is here.'
A day before, I had asked him to keep all his Hot Wheels miniature vehicles safely if he expects me to buy him an aeroplane. Luckily for him, I dont remember the third toy I left for him to play.
Ash is all eager to see me next week. He asked his dad if he needs to pack all his stuff so that he can be ready to go to Chply the moment I come.
Happy Sunday everybody. Nothing much is happening here. I am plodding through Coelho's The Winner Stands Alone. Enjoying it.

Zooming past

Here in Chennai, things have been slightly more interesting than usual of late. Pre-election campaigns, election results, post-election wrangling for ministerial berths by the Chief Minister, 'death' of Tiger chief Prabakaran (though some still believe it is not him) and of course the IPL tournament. Though Chennai Super Kings didnt see the light of the final, we tried to be happy that another South Indian team won the trophy.
The zoozoos caught our imagination more than the cricketers. They lit up our otherwise mundane lives for a while.
And now the IPL is over, the katthri heat is supposedly over (but the sun still shines mercilessly on the city) and schools are about to reopen.

The past and the future

Childhoods... The first is me and my brother, the second Ash and Mira.

Two movies

I am still feeling a bit perturbed after watching Tanmatra (molecule), a Malayalam film starring Mohanlal on Alzheimer's disease yesterday. The film came out some two years back but I have not had a chance to see it on TV either until now. I have been wanting to watch it, as the film is by a master director, has won quite a few awards, has a sterling performance by one of Mollywood's superstars, and has Meera Vasudev as the heroine. I had taken a liking to her ever since I saw a couple of song sequences from the movie where the sizzling model dons with ease the garb of an unglamorous housewife.
V decided not to watch it because he doesnt like depressing tales but I knew I had to watch it at least once. And I did, though I missed the opening scenes, and a few others when I went to attend to my cooking, and a during a couple of power failures.
But like some other Mohanlal movies - Kireedom and Sadayam - it is a movie that one cant watch more than once. It left me shaken and depressed. To top it, Ashwin's usual nightime sobs wanting to see me made me feel more miserable.
So I decided to watch another Malayalam movie with a cameo by the same superstar to shake off the effect. It did help to some extent.
Sunday otherwise was boring with no outings, even to the church.

Season's (cricket) fever

The kids are impatient to leave. To Chandanapally for now. For Ash, that's where his train set is. I let it be there because I cant have it going the way of all toys - half the units broken or lost. So it remains something that he can look forward to when he goes to Chply.
Mira is just plain bored despite all the care and attention she gets. She wants us to come at the earliest and take her away. I tell her the trains are full. She asks me to walk and walk and come. Next week, I promise. Next week is already here, she tells me. The weeks and months doesnt make sense to her, at the most she can understand a tomorrow.

Meanwhile, here in Chennai, the IPL tournament keep one parent occupied. The other parent's interest in IPL - II is limited to the Fake IPL Player blog. Now that things have reached the semifinal stage, I am prepared to give it a little more of my valuable time at home that is otherwise spent cooking, housekeeping, surfing the net and reading the dailies. V is rooting for Deccan Chargers and I, in an attempt to be faithful to my adopted land, had been subconsciously throwing my weight behind Chennai SuperKings. Maybe I will support DC now. V knows better :)

Life

Mr. L is having his Cafe Coffee Day coffee when I join him with my cup of coffee. An old gentleman, he is a feminist and has a word of appreciation for the women staff of the department.
I have decided I like him a little more ever since he told me I have a nice set of teeth. He has dentures, so he advised me to take care of my teeth. He tells me he didnt know anything about dental care until he was eight - toothpastes and toothbrushes were alien to people when he was growing up. For that matter, it was so even in my childhood. The old, the poor and the less literate used umikari (burnt rice husk) to clean their teeth with their right forefingers. Today everyone wields a toothbrush and is very conscious about dental hygiene. My kids have learnt that they need to brush their teeth before they go to bed, something I didnt know or practise when I was growing up.
Coming back to L. I ask him if he can go back to his sprawling house in Jaffna now that the war is 'over'. It is occupied but he can legally claim it back when things are back to normal. No, he has no hopes of going back in the near future. The war is not over yet. The Sinhalese wont give the Tamils their due. In 10 years or so, a Tamil state might evolve but I wont live to see that, he tells me.
I feel a trifle sad and shocked to hear that. A septuagenarian foreseeing his own death. While I mould two young lives.

The two young lives in my life tell me that they are feeling very sad because they cant see us. "Please come here and work." I wish I could.

Temptations in yarn

Shopping to kill time can turn out to be an expensive pastime, as I discover once in a while. Today I ended up buying two saris at Tulsi Silks during the 2-hour wait to give post-prandial (after food) blood at our co. clinic. For someone like me who doesnt wear saris often, it is a wasted pastime. And just the other day V had forbidden me from stocking any more saris; I tell him to take me along whenever he attends special functions so that I get to wear them.

I am at the clinic to be doubly sure if my sugar levels are ok. The random (RBS) check the other day had been very encouraging, but if I knew my fasting glucose levels were ok, I could add a spoon of sugar to my tea every morning (right now I add half a tsp without V's knowledge :). V decides to postpone his checkup because he had attended a late-night office party. I persuade him to drop me at the hosp however.

I scan the daily and its supplements after breaking the fast after giving the fasting blood. But there is still an hour to kill...

So I decide to take a walk down that quiet locality to fulfil my "brisk walk" quota (which I have quietly abandoned in the past one month). Quite perversly, I walk towards the main road where the shops are. There is a lot of activity going on near a temple - devotees and flower sellers lining one half of the street) - and I cross the road to check if the grass is greener on the other side. Actually, there is only slush and puddles left by yesterday night's unexpected showers. The Nokia showroom has closed down (I needed a screenguard for the mobile, especially after hubby inadvertently presented the first scratch on its screen yesterday), the Archies gallery hasnt opened (so abandoned plans to buy a birthday card for the only friend who still sends greeting cards by post), and the salesgirls at Tulsi silks are still waiting outside for the shop to open.

I am their first customer for the day, and I tell myself I need to pick up something or they will curse me for spoiling their sales for the day. A superstition prevalent here.

I buy two instead of one. I hope I gave them a good start for the day!

One-upmanship

The father as usual dials home at night to speak to the children. The son gets to talk first. He is crying and is inconsolable. "I want to speak to Amma before I talk to you," he tells him.

I am summoned from a late-night chore. "I want to see you. Please come."  I pacify him, and he sounds braver when he hands over the phone to Mira. I tell her to take care of her brother and not make him cry. She says ok, and reminds me that they need to go to Chply to see Bruno. They want a change of scene, Ash more because he wants to escape the medicines and treatment.

He entreats V: "Please tell them not to put salt with ghee on my body." That has been the latest treatment advised by the vaidyan to stop the itching. It works, but for a child with sores all over it burns his skin like mad. He has been sleeping better but I cant stomach the line of treatment.

His pleas break our heart. V advises his parents to lessen his trauma somehow.

Anyway I have something to feel gleeful. The boy, who is supposed to be closer to his dad, has been asking for me more. The father gives me a lame excuse but I am not buying it.

Disenfranchised

Today is polling day in Tamil Nadu. I didnt vote - in fact I have no vote anywhere. I dont exist in Kerala or TN. The last I voted was 10 years back, during the May 1999 Lok Sabha elections which fell a couple of days after my wedding day. My name was probably struck off from the voters' list in my village soon after but it didnt find entry in my adopted hometown - my husband's place - ever. The two of us have no ration card either, a basic document for address proof in India - ditto story about our names being struck off the family cards back in Kerala.
As citizens of Chennai, our names figured in the voters list during the State Assembly elections a few years back. V voted but since I had no voter's ID card, I couldnt. When voter cards were being issued for the first time, I was studying/working in Delhi and I never got round to getting one later. But this time, we could have used our passports, PAN (IT) cards, driving licence, or a few other documents to cast our vote but then we never got the voters' slip that party cadre deliver home to let you know where your name figure and the polling venue. Though TN politics lacks the hot-and-sweet flavour of Kerala politics (Dravidian parties fighting each other is not as entertaining as the Congress and the Communist party facing each other), I would have liked to choose between the suave Dayanidhi Maran and the other guy from Amma's party.
Hopefully by the next elections I will have a voter's id card and a vote. And going by the electoral scene in India these days, another general election cant be far behind.

On the phone

There was a non-stop clamour from the children as I attended their long-distance call yesterday. Every night we speak to them for a while before they go to bed. Ash seems to have caught the serial bug (he calls them cinema) so common in households in Kerala. From 7 pm to 10 pm or so, soaps and reality shows and horror serials and spiritual serials (from Hindu gods to Christian saints of the homegrown variety) on Malayalam tv channels keep the average Malayali enthralled and entertained. Ash apparently goes to sleep only after the 10 p.m. sermon on some spiritual channel. They have picked up the habits and hobbies of their grandparents.
"Amme, amme! look here, listen to me," he tries to drown the voice of Vaava on the extension phone. She asks me in English: Amma, how are you? ... Listen to me. The teacher-aunty has been imparting to her a few conversational skills in English.
Ash doesnt get round to his questions. I hear only his excited Amma calls. A stream of pleas and demands and suggestions follow.

• Please get a chalk (Lakshman rekha) to kill the ants when u come.
• Please buy a battery for the computer upstairs. They dont have a battery or CDs.
• Appacha doesnt switch on the AC in the hall.
• My legs are aching.
• Please get me the big aeroplane you promised.
• The appacha upstairs has asked me to study in Madras, not here.
• I need my cars and teddy bears and ball to play. There is nothing here.
• Please come in June when the school opens to take me home.
• Amma, where are u standing now?

etc. etc.

Both were clamouring to go with my parents who came down on Sunday to see them. "We have had enough of Chry, now we want to go to Chply," they told them. But Ashwin's present treatment and care requires him to stay on at the paternal family home. He wants to play with his train set while Mira wants to see Bruno the lab at Chply.

Unsung heroine

Of late, after the Sunday mass, I have been looking up on the church noticeboard the list of people celebrating birthdays and wedding anniversaries each week. And I felt particularly pleased that the 10th of May fell on a Sunday and I would see my name on the board too.

But in vain! While the names of every other husband and wife celebrating their anniversaries were listed, under the 10th of May the name of V alone was listed. Did the church office think he was man and wife rolled into one? Or it was probable that the V hasnt given any of our names - since my children's birthdays also dont find mention - to the office. Anyway, I shouldnt be having too many expectations on that front since the patriarchal society and churches of Kerala cannot be expected to respect women and children as entities worth their names.

I reach home and ask V why my name doesnt find mention. "I dont know. Dont bother me," he cuts the conversation short.

Anyway I should count myself lucky - I didnt end up getting a lecture from him for being late for mass. In fact I was ready and reading the papers while he shaved and bathed and got ready. It if had been the other way round, I would have had to hear an endless harangue until I entered church on how godless and devilish my ways were :) He just sighed and drove faster towards the parking lot (at the rear of the church) as we passed the church and the wandering eyes of the devotees nearer the door.

The celebration was confined to a call from my mom and an old college mate (I know... I havent forgotten the ones who emailed their wishes), a breakfast and lunch of partly leftovers (oops! need I say that?), a lunch treat of takeaway biriyanis for the watchman and his family of four and a dinner at a southern cuisine restaurant with another family. Hyderbadi/Nellore biryanis and kal dosais and naans later, we queued up at an icecream parlour breaking at the seams entertaining thirsty Chennaites trying to cool their systems with large helpings of softy icecreams with fancy names. I shared a bowl of delicious Chocolate Pop with V - and for once he didnt admonish me about the need to mind my blood sugar levels. :)

p.s. Cant say unsung actually ... V got me a pair of emerald studs from Tanishq a few days in advance.

Bombshells

Mira says she doesnt want to return to Madras! She has adopted Beena aunty as her mom, I think. She is generally unavailable for a telephonic conversation as most of the time she is upstairs, at the tenant's house. It is a good thing they dont mind the near permanent intrusion. Mira makes fun of Ash when he sobs into the phone wanting to see us. The good food makes her vote in favour of the grandparents' house while the strict diet makes Ash want to leave it by any means.

 

The husband calls after having his packed lunch: Cant you put some salt in the rice? And hangs the phone on me. I think I should send a bottle of salt.

 

p.s. Actually, there is nothing much to say these days with the kids away. Cooking and housekeeping take up most of my time at home, and I dont get down to reading until past 11 pm. An hour and half with the dailies and magazines and sometimes the net means that I am always a late bird who walks into the kitchen like a zombie at 7.30 am or so but manage a decent breakfast and lunch in a couple of hours. It has been a time to experiment - pulav, curd rice, pongal - and relegate traditional, cumbersome Kerala dishes to the background.

 

p.p.s. the postscript is longer than the main post. :0

Bombshells

Mira says she doesnt want to return to Madras! She has adopted Beena aunty as her mom, I think. She is generally unavailable for a telephonic conversation as most of the time she is upstairs, at the tenant's house. It is a good thing they dont mind the near permanent intrusion. 

B, a widow, is a French teacher at a local Catholic school. She has two daughters called Sweety and Moma at home. Her parents, retired from government service, also live with her. Formerly Hindus, they are part of some evangelical group. Ash is their favorite as B doesn't have sons.

P.s. I don't know what I meant by bombshells as this post was in draft for years. 

The caregivers

The tenants upstairs at Changanachery play a great role in rearing Ash and Mira... here they are with the mother-daughter pair.

That was Ash year before last. It pains me to look at his old pictures because his face looks very different now. It also pains me to look at their clothes and toys lying forlorn. The chaos in the house a month back has given way to some order and quiet, but we miss their ceaseless chatter and fights and what not.

And that is Mira two months back in Chennai. She is probably much plumper now... I am just worried if she is going to find the care here not upto the mark when she returns. And we are told by the grandparents that she is a very easy kid to manage - she is getting quite independent and self-sufficient. The temper is one to watch out for, though :)

I had plans to visit them this weekend and also attend my church festival on 7-8. Just cancelled the tickets as V tells me that it would upset the kids if I visit them and come back without them. Also, he is showing greater interest in celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary on the 10th. The plans are not concrete yet, but I hope it will give me something to blog about.