The Skip-Brain Speech

It was the summer of 2000. I was 17.We were a class of 64 - a skewed figure of 14 girls and 50 boys. The heat of Kochi and the stench of hardly-ever-cleaned water scarce toilets were slowly sinking in. There were some day scholars, who continued to be under the management and compliance requirements of their parents. Few others like me had achieved Nirvana and were living free lives far away from the vision of our parents, in hostels. Concepts like rights, freedom of thought (and actions) were still new and refreshing. The mind was gradually getting used to the idea of empowerment.

On one such morning, it was time for the electronics class to select their class representation (class rep as we called it). In the largest democracy of the world, it of course had to be democratic. A strange sort of intoxication filled my blood - the thrill of standing for yet another election; it was just couple of years back I was elected the school pupil leader, with the entire school voting me to power. "But this is college ; still should be a cakewalk", I thought. My mind raced to find the right words to put together for the self-nomination speech. The terrain is unfamiliar but I might make it through. I couldn't see three of my friends in yet. "As usual, late", my eyeballs rolled up indicating disappointment. "That should be okay, I guess- what difference does couple of votes make?", I told myself.

The first candidate rose up to the dais and delivered his candidature speech. I don't really remember what he said but there was an element of arrogance and self-marketing. "My words are going to be genuine and heartfelt", I made a mental note. Couple of others pitched their nominations thereafter. "Extraordinarily average", I thought. Hesitantly, a female classmate walked up to the dias. It was refreshing to see women standing up for themselves. My ears filtered out all the noise around. She went - "I believe one of the boys would obviously take up the class rep positions. My nomination is for the class vice representative. I hope to do a good job supporting the class rep in achieving his goals. Hope everyone elects me. Thank You."

For a moment, I suspected if the audio waves that hit against my ear drums had gone crazy. "Vice Rep?" "Support" "What?". My nerves were still processing this information, when I realized it was my turn next. My thoughts went blank. Where was my well-rehearsed taking-me-to-victory speech ? Before I realized , I could hear my lips delivering words that traveled directly from my heart, skipping my cognitive filters. "I strongly object to what my fellow classmate just said. So that everyone is clear, I am not here for the class vice rep election; (Do we even need a vice rep ?) I nominate myself for the class rep role and I believe I am fully capable of delivering the expectations, as well as any other boy in this class. Request all to vote for me".

After the skip-brain speech, I felt the class of 64 (minus 3) had come to a standstill;perhaps 60 odd pair of eyes looking at me in despise. I was in the awkward moment of a culture shock; as an afterthought, perhaps a realization of how the real world is. The voting process started and the results were out soon. I got 1 vote and that was my own :) . My friends walked in right at that moment. I protested that the voting process did not consider 3 important votes. I moved the court for re-election, which was accepted without any protest (everyone knew the outcome). After reelection, I got 4 votes. I looked at my friends and smiled to myself in pride - at least I have some loyal friends (not that they had much choice). Shortly after, my friends and I were labelled with the stamp of feminism. Years later, I was unanimously elected for the college students council. Not still sure, how that happened.

If I had to go back in time and change something that happened that day, it would be nothing. Standing up for oneself and getting 4 votes is any day better than not standing up at all !

Life, here I come !

I often feel that a lot of women do not put enough thought to their careers and their worth. I say so because when I joined my first job, I did not have any vision about what I wanted to make out of my career or identity. I knew I needed a job, which I am glad I found while I was still studying at my college, but beyond that there was no contemplation on how I should shape it.

At least from a Indian context, a huge number of girls do not even attempt to pursue a job in the fear that it is difficult to find one, even if they have been very successful in their academics. Those who make it, do not give it much thought when they decide to give it away to accompany one's husband, who has been offered a lucrative career at another location or abroad. Then comes those who give up saying that the competition is fierce and they don't get to contribute enough time for their family. If one manages to cross all the above, then comes the next big thing - children- this is where most give it all away. What is a mother if she cannot care for her young ! This is the point where everything they have been holding on to, slowly drifts away. There's no career for many after that. Of course there are many others who are resilient. They take a break and return to show the world that they exist. And then there are the last category of women, who hold on and cling to their identity in each of the above phases and refuse to give up.

This blog is dedicated to all those women, who refuse to give up, who believe that the fire within them will keep them going because it is brighter than the fire around. So where am I at the moment ? I am at a phase where I just finished 15 years of my career and I feel very energized and proud about it. I feel exhilarated that there were many many opportunities life presented to me to let go of my identity and I desperately cling on to those many long tunnels in the hope that light will eventually show up and it always did. I am glad that I have had learning and experiences every single day, which takes shows me how to be a better person; I am grateful that I have had people in my lives both at work and home, who chose to stand up for me and by my side. I have felt and feel blessed to have been able to work with women who have shown that nothing is impossible. Last 15 years have been hectic, challenging and thrilling all at the same time and I sincerely hope that I am able to say the same at the end of another 15 years.

I end with the below quote from Mick Kremling:
"You didn't come this far to only come this far"

Life, here I come !

The Two Friends - by Aditya Divya Vinod

Adventures of TinTin - To Gift or Not ?

Tintin has been my all time favorite comic..well till I ran into Calvin and Hobbes, the discovery of which left the dark corners of my craving soul divided. Bright colorful squares and rectangles packed into parallel strips where Tintin escapes from the poisonous arrows of a deadly assassin in Egypt to be captured by the Incas of South America to be sun fried. How I wished to grow up to be Tintin one day. The mystery, the excitement, the thrill of having escaped death yet again still gives me goosebumps. Not to mention his friends - the drunkard Captain Haddock whose family always has some hidden treasures in some depths of the world (how I prayed that my family had some too) and how his 'Blue Blistering Barnacles' left me feeling aghast; the absent-minded half-deaf Professor Cuthbert Calculus, whose pendulum always eventually found them the way (how I hoped to be geekish like him); I must confess that I did not have any particular affection towards snowy, who is Tintin's loyal dog or towards Mr. Thompson and Thomson, the twin policemen.

I was introduced to Tintin and his adventures in the year 1996, when a neighbor of mine developed a craze for it. Each comic cost Rs.80, which my parents would rather spend on groceries than on a silly comic of a red-head short man, who traveled the world. I would patiently wait for my neighbor to buy the new book and wait for a month or two for him to read to his heart's desire, before requesting him if I can borrow if for a day or two and those two days would be heaven.

It must have been the summer of 2005 and it was of course before I met 'Calvin & Hobbes'. It was my birthday. My friend at office met me at lunch and passed me a thin cuboid wrapped in a green gift wrap. I carefully opened it to find two VCDs of Tintin. My heart raced with excitement but it soon settled. I am an admirer of Tintin comics and not of the animation. The bright colors were what attracted me.  I gracefully thanked her and walked towards my work station. I took a left turn towards the corridor and at a distance I could see a not-so-friendly colleague of mine waving his hand towards me. My left eyebrow raised in suspicion. He came closer and said "Wait, I'll be back". I waited, just like the blue whale in 'The Hitch Hiker's Guide to Galaxy' wondered about it's existence as it sank in to the vacuum.

Before my innocent mind drifted into the events of how the blue whale became a sperm whale and was called into existence, I was interrupted. There in front of me stood probably the entire collection of Tintin VCDs, all brand new, obviously leaving me very confused; last thing I expected from a not-so-friendly colleague. My forehead wrinkled in doubt. My not-so-friendly colleague probably soon realized that he was not supposed to express any form of camaraderie. He quickly took a step back and said " These are from a friend of mine. However, you can keep it for as long as you wish". 'Yeah, like for infinity- which dumb friend of yours cared to buy this whole collection and let go of it without watching it even once for infinite number of years', I wondered.

At this point I must add that I am naive at certain things and trust people easily. Thus, in spite of the above story being incredibly hard to believe for a person with average trust deficit, I actually believed it. With great care I opened the VCDs, watch some of them with great pain and returned it dutifully in few days time.

Years later I had the opportunity to visit this colleague's house briefly. And there on the table, I saw sitting dust ridden poor Tintin's VCD collection, not having had much of any adventure.  Looks like his rich friend got amnesia after he bought them. I think they were better off sleeping peacefully in my book self.

And a message to my not-so-friendly colleague - ' If you ever read this blog esp. around April time frame, I have moved on from Tintin to Calvin and don't mind receiving the entire collection of Calvin and Hobbes comics. This time I swear I will keep it for myself for infinity and ever after :)'

A morning bike ride

People blame me for living in memories of the past. Below blog is an extract from the past, a memory from my pensieve so as to say (all my friends who appreciate Harry Potter would know what I mean).
 
It was a busy morning. It was probably a Monday, sometime in 2006. I had as usual missed my office bus. I closed my eyes and contemplated on what next.. an autorikshaw perhaps- I crossed the 6 lanes of road and reached the other side of the outer ring road and stopped a not too eager looking rikshaw driver. "Hundred", he said. My eyes popped out. "Hundred?!". I hate morning negotiations esp. the ones where I always fail. He roared the engine in an attempt to ignore me and move forward. I stopped him. "Eighty?" , I asked. He pretended that he couldn't see me. I took a deep breath; My eyes probed for any other rikshaws. None around. The buses ran over-packed, leaning to one side. I closed my eyes, taking air in as much as I can when I felt a soft tap on my left shoulder. I turned to my left and opened my eyes and there he was, hazel-eyed with a kind handsome face smiling at me.

"Rough day, eh ?" , he asked
"Yeah", I sighed.
"Want a lift?"

I remembered seeing him back in office, sitting in the same floor. Name, not very sure. I searched around him looking for a vehicle and couldn't find any. He pointed his finger to an old mirror-less Yamaha bike parked remotely 6 lanes across the road, right where I was standing before. 'And you crossed these six lanes in this traffic to ask me for a lift ?' , I thought.

"Sure", I said.

Eventually, I ended up spending more time on that bike than any other I can remember -  a friendship, that will forever remain close to my heart. Thanks for crossing those six lanes for me. It will always remain a fresh memory in my pensive.

Royal Mysore Walks - Tipu Sultan's Trail Part 2

So we started moving. Our Rolls Royce..sorry Willy's petrol jeep with WWII engine did not have any seat belts and I felt I was literally flying. It had no top , no back and no front (Faizan Baksh bend/dismantled the front portion to let "air" fly in as though there were no other means for air to fly in). Thankfully, there was a bottom to hold on to.

Ammu peacefully settled down at the back seat without putting up a fight and I held my front seat position firm and strong. For the first one hour of the tour, it sounded like we were giving the tour to Faizan. No man can ever compete with two women. Ammu and I have the skill to talk continuously about particularly nothing and on hindsight I am not sure if we ever gave poor Faizan enough opportunities to speak.

We vividly described Fort Kochi, Wellington Island, Boat rides (feeling nostalgic), Jewish synagogue, beaches, molestation of women in Ernakulam local buses and what not! I felt drenched in the memories of the roaring turbulent waves hitting against the wet sand, disappearing our sand castles; of the fishermen who delivered fresh fish in bicycles at Ernakulam early in the morning with their loud horns; of clams, mussles , crabs and prawns, thousands of whom I peacefully send to heaven without much thought or afterthought; of caravan ice cream parlor at M.G. Road/Broadway, which my sister and I with our brother visited as children; of the children's park next to marine drive with the broken children's jeep and scooters; and the best of all those boat rides with Mummy while she worked at wellington island. Home is where heart is and that's exactly where I go speechless and spellbound. Sigh! Millions of memories came rushing back. Faizan, I have no one but you to thank for this :)


After a short pit-stop at Pashchimavahini, we soon arrived at Srirangapatna. We were soon taken back to the 18th century. I could visualize Napolean's ships catching fire; the French revolution on one side and Anglo-Tipu wars on the other. The fort looked familiar , it was as though I had been there before. But when ? My neurons struggled to recollect. It sounded like the data stored in my genes were telling me something. What is it, I asked myself..but the answers would be revealed to me only much later. "Tipu sultan" .."Sultan Bathery".. "Feroke" ..strange voices haunted my head from deep within..

Seen above is the map of Mysore kingdom when Tipu Sultan was the ruler. Most of my friends and relatives should be able to identity with all the places we are from currently in the map above, including current Kochi, that was once part of Mysore. The primary part was Malabar district of course, which was given away to British East India company at the end of the third Anglo-Mysore war. This basically meant that for most of the period Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan were the rulers of Mysore, Malabar district was part of their kingdom. I could now relate to all the voices in my head (Both of my parents are from Malabar region). Tipu's atrocities against Nairs of that region and him forcibly converting them to Islam is well known. The fort at Srirangapatna and at the ones at Bekal (Kannur) and Palakkad are similar. In fact, Bekal fort is much more beautiful with the beach on one side.


Coming back to the present, Faizan took us to Tipu's summer palace soon after and it was a fantastic work of art and architecture but both looked very trivial compared to the glory of the one and only Mysore Palace. In fact I liked Mysore Palace more than Taj Mahal ! We went to a mosque nearby where Faizan made us jump a lot in an effort to make it look like we were flying ?

The ride back in our Rolls Royce felt quick. We talked much lesser than the way to. A faint sense of sadness encompassed us because the tour had finally come to an end. Faizan finally left us at the Mylari dosa joint. The dosas were yummm... That concludes our 'Royal Mysore Walks' tours. Hopefully we run into them sooner or later.


It must have been sometime in 2009. I was at TK's wedding, when I was first presented with the business card of Royal Mysore Walks. It was a one man army then, probably the logo or emblem wasn't designed yet. I vaguely remember how it had Royal Mysore Walks written. I had promised to help with some publicity then but the treachery of a day profession clubbed with domesticity took over and there were only leftovers of guilt from a broken promise, which remained as a business card in my purse for years to come. With these three blogs, I have hopefully absolved myself of my guilt and sins. My soul can now rest in peace :)

Royal Mysore Walks - Tipu Sultan's Trail - Part 1

Ammu and I lay down on our hotel bed glaring at the mirror on the ceiling. The room was quaint and the reflection on the ceiling reminded us that we were together having a nice vacation. She gulped the orange M5 (Minute Maid Mixed with Magic Moments Vodka) and gave a glee. All the cells in our body were creaking with the morning 3 hours of cycle tour and 4 hours of Mysore Zoo. I handed over my glass of M5 to her because I had gotten my nose pierced that evening (Geever, forgive us - only Geever knows what to forgive us for and we leave our readers wondering who's Geever..) and wanted to avoid any mis-adventure. Thankfully the next day's tour wasn't going to start before 9 am. What a relief for the creaky muscles. We dreamed of gobbling up a lot of free continental breakfast (as Hotel Palace Plaza had advertised) before we hit Tipu Sultan's Trail.

The breakfast was horrible. So, there was nothing much in the stomach but our hearts were thrilled with the excitement of meeting Faizan Baksh (who was our tour coordinator as per the mail from Royal Mysore Walks). Ammu enthusiastically told me that she will sit in the front seat of the jeep if Faizon is young. I gladly agreed. I had to oblige to the wishes of a woman who was to be married the next month. I would have more opportunities; I pacified myself. We walked over to the clock tower and there standing at the far right end of the road was a young man with wind rustling through his curly flowing hair foreseeing a topless jeep. What a nice combo, my heart smiled for Ammu.

So from when do I know Faizan? Perhaps a little from the time he has been uploading his photographic creations onto RMW FB account. Not to mention all his work on the RMW website and the other few that can be found on the Gulliver travels website. His earthy creations create empathy because when one see his photos, the eyes get tricked and start feeling that we were there.

So where were we before we got distracted by Faizan Baksh? We were at the clock tower. Ammu's eyes giggled and she hopped on to the front seat. I clumsily took the back one. But we soon ran into some technical difficulties. The 1975 Mahindra Willy's petrol model was not built for women (or men) of height 5.8" or more. My head started bumping against the top iron bar. Ammu gracefully let go of her well-earned seat to let me take over. What a relief :)

We were soon on our way to Srirangapatna, sniffing Tipu's Trail.. Tipu sultan, here we come!

Royal Mysore Walks

I am not sure where I should start from. Perhaps we can do a flash black to 2009, when an ex-colleague of mine decided to quit and start off an entrepreneurial journey. It was the time people in the IT industry had started making enough money to afford affluent vacations; tourism was flourishing. When I got to know what he was up to, I had my own doubts; I felt it was too ambitious for someone to venture into an unknown path all by himself. We wouldn't know if it was a brave or foolish decision until much later. Back to the present.

Ammu and I hit the sack early enough the previous night. We kept wondering how it's going to be. We received a mail that night that had the name of the instructor. The name was rather strange. We had never heard of that name before. Ammu mischievously wondered if it was going to be a he or she. She giggled. The surname sounded familiar.

The next morning we hurried out of the hotel hoping to find a team of people, which we were going to be a part of. Impana was standing right there with 3 bicycles ready to greet us. She was warm and friendly. She helped us try our helmets and adjust the cycles. At 7 am on a Saturday morning we started our first experience with "Royal Mysore Walks". The cycles were all maroon and the tyres were much broader than of my cycle back home. I had just recovered from my cycle crash adventure that left me with 10 forehead stitches and multiple bruises all over. So, hopping on this maroon baby needed a bit of courage than usual. The only relief was that this time if it crash landed, I would at least have the helmet on.

We started peddling ; the cycle wouldn't move; 14 year old sedentary lifestyle or perhaps my cycle back home moves with much less friction ? It took a lot of effort to get this guy rolling; the more difficult the more calories burnt. We started off with the government house and Impana soon took us through the nook and corner of the city, telling us interesting stories about different monuments, streets, art and shops. I must admit that it's the very first time I was riding a cycle on the road ( I have owned only one cycle till now and that was bought by depositing ten rupees at random intervals in a school bank account till it grew to 1000 rupees over a period of more than a year.  My first blue BSA cycle; how my heart gleamed ).

I don't remember the exact places we went to but I remember my heart racing and a fresh feeling filling me up. It was a pleasure seeing young Impana explain through small stories confidentially. It felt like we knew her from long back. All three of us laughed , took selfies whenever we got a chance and we shared our stories with her over a cup of coffee and breakfast. At the end of almost 3 hours, the trip came to an end. Ammu and I did not realize time flying by and it felt a little sad that it had come to an end. The best thing was we had signed up for the Jeep Tour as well, which was coming up the next day.

I must say that it was one of the most enjoyable activity I have done in recent times. It was not just a cycle ride; It was a memory that will remain etched in Ammu and me for years to come and Impana had made it look so beautiful. Impana, thanks for the wonderful time !

We got into our hotel happy to have burnt some good number of calories. Right there was a framed photo of "Royal Mysore Walks". Well, I guess it wasn't a foolish entrepreneurial journey after all!

Everyday is a new war

I am re-posting a blog post that I had posted 10 years back. The title and the first line of the post belongs to a friend. This poem sounds relevant in light of my last post -Mid Life Crisis.

Everyday is a new war,

A war in armored disguises,

Here amour lights the lamps of eyes,

Abhorrence those of despises,

In here poses fear a brazen battle,

A land to callous carnage,

In here kins close to pride and pain,

Dig burrows to poignant passage.

Ever man fights a new war,

A war against secret tears,

When he speaks through eyes,

And sings from heart , the song that no one hears.

a battle of the brave,a battle so naive,

A battle for a man's share,

Of love and life, peace and price,

That shall he carry till his grave !

Mid Life Crisis

We have reached , not yet arrived,
In our thirties having left the sweet twenties behind;
Our eyes no longer glitter , our cheeks don't glow,
Our hearts are not those of the lover's, who sighs like a furnace from Shakespeare's ballad.

We are enacting the fourth age in the world' stage,
Soldiers with strange oath and woeful pride,
We have lost the luscious charm and a lot of the lustful vigor,
And have strangled ourselves with the melancholy of monotony.

Soon we will be with round bellies, which we with already are,
With severe eyes and ailing figures,
With love lost or sometimes regained,
And hopefully some time for life and mates.

Stuck in Reverse

It was a fine Tuesday morning and as usual I sent Tutu to school and started my morning cycling . After couple of rounds, abruptly I could feel myself sort of flying in the air and in split of a second everything came crashing down. I was right there lying on the ground with the cycle flying and landing on top of me.

Few hours later, I was with around ten stitches on my forehead and multiple bruises back home . I must add that i was secretly excited because it was my first solo live accident and that too with some stitches. Took the week off and was taking some rest when I ran into some old mails which I had never managed to check for years. Some were ten years old..and then I noticed one that was sent sometime in 2010 with an mp3 attachment. I opened it. It was not a virus. It was something even better.

At this moment , I must take a step back and let my readers know that I am bit of a foolishly emotional person. I have often seen bollywood movies with heros singing romantic songs to heroins and always wondered if something of that sort ever happened in real life. Though I always wanted to sing like that for someone, I never ran into that opportunity till now. But my spine has always chilled with the idea of someone singing for me and I can totally forgive anyone who cannot remotely comprehend this idea. Brains are not made equal. I agree that some were made with better care :) (like that of the author of this blog).

So, there the attachment opened and I was listening to this nice guitar piece followed by a male voice singing a very beautiful song and the lyrics went:


When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
 
When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

High up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
If you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And for those who are clueless to which song this is , it's Fix you by Cold Play and the original version can be found at youtube. But what I was listening to was not the original version. It wasn't recorded well..but it was sung well with a lot of passion and pain...exactly like what I had dreamed of and the guitar piece was awesome.

 To have learned that I opened it 7 years late was just shameful. So, to the one who cared to take the pain to sing and send this, you just made my dream come true ! Thank you very much.This blog post is dedicated to your song.

Emotional Sink

I recently watched a movie named 'Dear Zindagi'.  Few of the thoughts discussed in the movie were inspiring. In the movie a psychologist tells his patient about how there is a separate partner to do a separate activity. For eg. a friend for having coffee, a friend for gossips, a friend for shopping. It's unfair to expect the same person (often the person one is in a relationship with) to be the all-in-one person. This is so true. So simple, mostly unimplemented and so true. We live our lives always looking for that one person who can be our everything like a superman or a superwoman and there's no such person . That merely leaves us disappointed - disappointed because we have created an imaginary person who doesn't exist and spend all over lives looking for her/him.

I recently started practicing heartfulness meditation and I realize now after my 34 years of existence that we are the answers to our questions. I pray everyday that my expectations and judgements of others melt away and leave my mind with enough space for better thoughts that can focus on myself; that the atmosphere is the biggest emotional sink one can have- we are all  made of the same matter that stars and other bodies are made of; that happiness is a choice ; that thinking positive is a muscle that has to be exercised so that it functions everyday; that immunity can be increased by merely being happy; that miracles happen and miracles manifest from our beliefs.

Tired of being the bored version of myself

A close friend of mine whatsapped me this morning and asked me to write again. So, this one is for her..the one that reminds you of the moon.

So, what awesome thing did I do today ? I enrolled myself for Zumba classes ! And why would I do that ? Because I am a terrible dancer..I can't move my legs and shake my body to a tune. So I enrolled for Zumba just like I enrolled for Salsa 11 years back, for exactly the same reasons.

I did something even more awesome last week. I got myself a tattoo. It's a series of 5 birds flying from inside to outside. I felt so liberated after doing it. It was a dream come true.

As we go through all the laundry , grocery, food, maid , child and office-work management, we forget about someone very important and that's US. And I forgot about me and I forgot about me for the past 4 years perhaps and now I find a very evolved non-adventurous non-risk-taking bored version of myself . I think it's time to go underwater and say WTH !! (you can try saying that but you just can't ! LOL )

Parenting

I have been thinking of writing for a long time but it never works out. I am not sure if it's because I didn't get enough time to do so or if it's because I didn't prioritize it enough.(There's always a tendency in women to keep their health and time to the very end ).

I had a baby 2.5 years back and it has been a ride since then , which no one really warned me about. Whoever I talk to (whether it's my female friends or female colleagues ), we all talk about the same thing (yes the same thing ).

Guilt
It all starts with guilt.Loads of them and this is especially true for all the working women, who have to leave their young ones with caretakers (some reliable , others not). All of them (or at least most) are drowned in the sea of their own guilt by the time they return home from work and see their babies crying out looking for mama. This tops the list of things that eat up a woman. My guess is that its evolutionary.For millions of years , the sole goal of a women's life was to give birth to and nurture their young ones and leaving their young ones to be nurtured by someone else seems to hugely contradictory to what one's sole intended purpose in life.

I hear this topic being discussed in any women's day special meets or when two female colleagues fill their water bottles (unlike males, one can hardly find any any female colleague with kid(s) slowly sipping a cup of tea in the cafeteria talking about worldly affairs..never.). I am aware of many females (talented and competitive) choosing to leave their lucrative jobs because of (what sounds like trivial) things like their kid isn't drinking enough water or that they don't get to spent enough time with their kids .

Sleep
I started sleeping 8 hours recently (that doesn't mean I sleep for 8  hrs every night..sometimes I do) after probably 3 years. For all the poor souls who are wondering why, its simple . Most women have sleep disturbances after they expect a baby (I remember getting up every other hour and walking due to leg cramps when I was expecting my son). Soon after , its all about feeding the baby accompanied by other routine things like stuffy nose , nightmares , hunger, thirst (means baby is hungry ) or just simply because your baby doesn't "feel" like sleeping at the time called "night"! And what about those long sleepless nights pacifying a baby who has a fever or burning cough..? IT just goes on and on.

I reach office pretty sleep deprived every morning and the bunch of few unmarried guys sitting around me start off-"How can someone be yawning so early in the morning?" . I cannot express in words the intense emotion I go through when I hear that , which I manage to control merely to comply with the company policies.

Stress
Unlike the olden golden times , the most common way of getting support now (esp. in towns) is by buying them. But just like the golden days bring in challenges with respect to managing relationships, the new era brings in "maid" challenges. You wake up one fine morning only to realize that your baby sitter (your only hope towards going to work ) had decided not to come. This very thought stops you from getting a good night's sleep ( The other set of deep worries that I have not even discussed about here is related to whether your care taker is "actually" taking care of your infant.).

Career
Most women go through a stagnant phase in their career soon after little ones pop out. I say many because I know few others who made it big overcoming this phase. I must say after my son was born I started questioning whether spending more time at work was worth it. I had this overwhelming hormonal call to care for my son and everything else seemed trivial and secondary. What was the point having a career if I couldn't care for my child? I witnessed less skilled and experienced people climbing up the ladder and felt frustrated but soon I came to terms with myself on what my priorities were. 

Social
From the time my son was born to the next 3 years , I think I had a zero social circle. Everything revolved around keeping him comfortable and often people pointed out that I went overboard with it and in many cases I should have just let him cry for a while. I could live with being an unsocial person and that was something I consciously let go off.


My son is 3 now and I feel lot better. He now understand to some extend for Amma and Dada's need to go to work (because it buys him toys, chocolates and roti). My guilt has reduced and I try to take sometime for myself as well and hopefully things will get better as it moves.

The Labor

(I ran into a draft post I had written sometime back and I thought it would be a good publish)

I hope this post helps all those first time expecting parents and married (or unmarried ) couples who are clueless of  what's awaiting them. If my labor was any less dramatic , this post wouldn't have materialized. For all those who have already gone through this experience or never will, I am sorry if this sounds too boring.

We reached our maternity hospital emergency (they call it triage) at around 9pm one Tuesday night after we suspected that my mucous plug had come out (For those wondering , mucous plug has nothing to do with the mucous coming out of the nose). There were other women in queue who were already in their labor and I was just one of the many.When my turn came, it was found that my BP (they call it PIH or Pregnancy Induced Hypertension) had shot up , accompanied by onset of slight asthma.The duty doctor performed a routine 'internal examination' to confirm the labor stage ( For those totally clueless of what internal examination is, it is a rather awkward and extremely painful process where the doctor puts her fingers into a female's cervix and God knows where all to analyze the situation there ). I thought that we would be interacting with the duty doctor all through the night but to my surprise the senior obstetrician (whom we were consulting) came to the spot and advocated "induced labor" next morning at 4 am and gave us few hours to catch up with sleep.

I was immediately shifted to what they call a LDR (Labor Delivery Room), where a machine to check my contractions and the baby's heart rate was attached to me.(Now that I look back , the LDR seems like a room to hell.) A room was allotted to us where Vinod was supposed to spent his night but he chose to sit in a chair next to my bed all night.The hospital payment package was inclusive of just 5 hrs in LDR and I honestly thought that by making me spend the night at the LDR (even when induced labor was to start only next morning), the hospital was probably trying to make some easy bucks.As soon as I was shifted to the LDR , I started developing light contractions, once every 30 min and I thought it was just some gas . ( For all those who are unaware of and will remain unaware of  contractions, it is a category of pain that seems like it is generating from your lower back or lower abdomen and travels downwards and disappears to come again after few minutes. Well, this is the simplest explanation).

One thing to note in a maternity hospital is that the only thing of any importance is pain.Almost as soon as you arrive there with symptoms of labor, you shed your veils of privacy . Different doctors examine your different body parts, in and out and all you seem to be bothered is that you get out that place in two healthy pieces (one piece is you and the other of course the baby). Apart from the doctors who engage in delivering babies daily, the other section of people that need a big round of applause are the nurses. Even though we paid for their services, I felt heavily indebted to the services offered by (both female and male) nurses. They do things for you that even your close relatives feel awkward about.

By the time it was 4:30 in the morning, my mild contractions had increased to be recognized as contractions and I was administered with some drug to induce labor...and it seemed like held broke loose after that...what happened thereafter was too dreadful to be even thought about. I started getting what is called strong contractions..atleast according to me they were strong ..but the medical staff did not feel so.All I can remember is I yelling with pain and my poor husband massaging my back ..This went on for another 12 hours. The assistant doctors would visit every couple of hrs, do an internal examination and declare that dilation hasn't happened much. Now that I think of it, I am not sure how women would want to go through this sort of self-torture over and over again.

At the end of long 16 hours, the heart-beat machine started beeping back and forth. The baby's heart beat was dipping steadily.I felt like I was being sucked into vacuum. A sense of free falling into
 cool air encompassed me..reminded me of the whale in the 'the HitcherHiker's guide to Galaxy' that had no clue of where it was going..or who it was-Poor Chap.

Much to my relief, my obstetrician sent out an emergency distress signal and I think within a span of next 5 min , I was right under the circular beam of lights inside an Operation Theatre- something I had till then seen only in the movies. I was huge and really very heavy and the team of male nurses had a difficult time transferring me over to the operating bed (wonder if that's what it's called). I was in intense pain and rather non-responsive. I thought I was dying or that I was already dead. I had started to feel way too numb and hopeless. There were male nurses all over and I think they did a very good job. I vaguely remember one of the asking me to bend , which I didn't and then he physically bend me over and probably pushed something into my spine. He then pricked my toe and asked me if I felt anything. I didn't respond . I soon realized that I was probably given an anesthesia . I could move my head and neck and see all the commotion around. I heard distress signals getting sent out, emergency pediatricians and other doctors being called in. I think there were at least 10 pair of eyes looking into my abdomen talking about the missing amniotic fluid, muconium  which the baby was about to consume, bad state of placenta etc etc...I somehow thought I had died because I had started feeling like a third party and best of all I didn't feel any pain. I didn't care about anything (even the baby) . I was just far too relieved that the pain was gone . I think all these lasted just for few minutes- perhaps between 5-10 min - just as much time required for Vinod to change and come to the OT. I remember a nice looking female nurse carrying a nice looking pink chubby baby with huge cheeks towards me and she said "It's a boy". I didn't bother to respond. She wouldn't leave.So I gave him a quick peck on his cheeks so that she did.

Soon I was transferred to the recovery room where I thankfully slept for a long time (I think I didn't get a chance to sleep for that long for the next 3 years). My legs were numb from the anesthesia and I couldn't walk. Two male nurses had to physically lift me from the bed and fit me into the wheel chair and I was taken to the room and that was the end of my melodramatic first labor :)

I should sincerely thank the team of CloudNine doctors and nurses (I noticed that the male nurses were not visible outside the OT and recovery rooms and thus I never saw them again) for all their wonderful service and thanks to Dr. Praveen Shenoi for not letting me sink into the vacuum like the blue whale !

Misc thoughts

Life has been rather stagnant lately. It's like your bones have stopped growing any further and you wouldn't get any taller. It's like you are pretty much done with that list of to-dos that people around had made for you and now that you are done , you feel a little lost. And then you realize that while you were busy executing the things in those list, you didn't bother making a secret list of your own. That's where I am now. I am done with surviving school and college without flunking , graduation (though I don't think I have much idea of what I did those 4 years..I faintly remember the word diode and how electrons and protons starting from opposite directions at certain speeds(velocity?) met at an undecided (or decided) spot to become(?) neutrons ???)), job (wonder if job is called so because it's a monotonous seemingly automated activity that runs periodically like a cron job :-| ) marriage, kid, house..Well, now that most important things have been taken care of , I get an apparent feeling that my life has come to a logical end and that probably a new life has to start.

I am trying to compile this new to-do list and I'd love to pick and choose couple of things from the previous - a) love b) kid . Both of these bring in a great deal of satisfaction and completeness. The previous list , If you had noticed has "marriage" and the new list has "love". I don't remember anybody (from the old world so as to speak) ever telling - "You gotta find your love". They always said- "You need to have security - mostly financial- that comes in with a man who has a good source of income and no other wives". I want to tell my children - "Go find your love, and then most likely you will have a breakup but that's okay because your real love is just around the corner after your next few loves :)) )

I try calling my old friends (old is kind of redundant here because I never made many new friends after the old ones) and see that they are (like me) fairly stuck in the treachery of this vicious life. Life is literally sucking the life out of everyone. Most are trying to make ends meet ( as in work, kids and family) and soon before we realize, we'd all be frail old bones (a few of which I remember hanging in the biology lab) and fun and adventure would be far beyond us.

So when was the last time I got a real kick ? When I wrote a complicated piece of code that changed the world ? No way (!!!) ..When I was served a glass of Frooty with Brandy? (God, that was terrible!)..The point is I don't remember ..I think the adrenalin walked out of my door sometime back .. I know people who have been starting up their own firms and I think that's great but I think that will never give me a high.However, what JK Rowling did gives me a high. I think she touched the life and heart of millions and millions in this world in a very different way. I secretly hope that I end up doing something similar to what she did.

Lots of office work piled up for the upcoming week and I guess my brain is freezing. It refuses to work..Hoping to write more in the coming days..

Post Partum Hypthyroidism

Child Birth (at least in my mind) had always been associated with the beautiful ,gentle mothers and serenely sleeping babies (who never cry) in the Johnson's baby ad but now I know that's far from the truth.For a working mother , it's mostly about how to make all ends meet.- there's the new person you have brought into this world, your career that needs attention , the daily mundane domestic chores and you. And when you run that complicated scheduling algorithm which you have designed for yourself over and over again and pick up the top 3 priorities for the day, what you safely choose to un-choose  from the list is you (day after day after day), because you think that you can give that time and attention for yourself later on; that that "you" can wait..and that's what I did. I denied myself sleep , entertainment , health check-ups , hobbies and probably many other things in an effort to make the other ends meet.. and then what happened ? - All the other ends broke loose because I failed to realize that "I" am the pillar on top of which other ends bind.


Last few months have been a struggle starting from the never ending allergy colds (for which I started homeo medication). Soon back pain started and everyone blamed it on the lack of exercise. So I started exercise and was feeling too tired and giddy (not to mention the muscle cramps , severe PMS, period pains and heavy flows). Hair fall soon followed. Doctors asked me to take Iron supplements, which I started.Then there was the difficult-to-subside mouth ulcers and brittle nails and someone said it could be a vit deficiency but couldn't really figure out which one . Soon irritation and general anxiety creeped in and doctors asked me to sleep more. Sleeping more never got rid of my tiredness . And then soon there was problems with taste, appetite , lack of focus, not been able to enjoy things like watching TV, traveling or anything for that matter. People told me that it could be symptoms of stress and others said that it was just something inside my head . Often I had to read articles and programs over and over again to comprehend it .I started pushing myself to keep myself more engaged and happy but that didn't work either.It felt like life was falling apart and I would never be able to make any ends meet again.

Then, a doctor asked me to take the Thyroid test (yeah, all of us take it during pregnancy and soon after but never for a long time after that) and boom I get to know that I have been suffering from Post Partum Hypthyroidism (my son is 2.5 years) for a while and all the above are merely symptoms of it. Who could have ever imagined that one gland could create so much of havoc in just everything about you-physical & psychological ? I read many articles about how people go through these symptoms and live miserably for years before they get their thyroids checked.

So , all the gals (guys) there, if you get similar symptoms , don't live your life thinking its an attitude-problem . Go and get yourself checked !!

As I turn 32..

As I turn 32 , I want to thank my dad
..for secretly buying me ice creams when we went for strolls,
..for telling me that being a girl doesn't mean i cannot travel alone,
..for letting me have my own religious beliefs
..for keeping heat pads when i had period pains
..for letting me decide when to marry and when to have kids
..for letting me choose my husband
..for being there to rock my baby to sleep
..for letting me being what I want to be
..for being my super man

Mother..Who?

Delivering a baby is a lot of effort;after all those initial months of terrible morning sickness, acidity and gas till the last few months of leg cramps , sleeplessness and other difficulties, it felt like a I had crossed many long tunnels and reached a logical conclusion. In the software industry, when one developer puts in all that effort and dedication , the manager provides him/her with some recognition that generally feels great.It makes you feel good and satisfied-you have delivered a product after so much hardship and people around appreciate it .Unfortunately, in real life, that doesn't happen. Right when I was feeling all elated about the good job I had done, I was pulled back to ground reality by all dear and near ones who apathetically reminded me that -"It's no big deal.It was just your duty". I am not sure if they meant the same thing what Darwin did when they said "duty"..as in bringing forth evolution by delivering a hybrid gene combination which is, by virtue of evolution, better than its previous one...well don't think so..

I don't think I'd have run into rough waters if I had just gone with the flow (all I have to blame is my neurons and some conditioning that says "THINK" :-p) .. Even before the bun popped out of the oven, I could hear folks talking about whether the sun/moon sign for that day was favorable (As mine was an induced labor, Vinod n I were stressed that our families might ask the induction to happen on an astrologically favorable day. There is a story according to which, I was born under such calculated induction so that I was not born at a bad hour with a bad sun/moon sign.). Soon there were discussions on either side about the 28th day celebration and other ceremonies that should follow. (One of my good friends told me that in her case , after all the arrangements were made inclusive of the kind of dress she and baby should wear , she was given the option to call few ppl of her choice to attend the ceremony !). All kins seemed to be more excited about the function, the people who would arrive and all the fanfare rather than the newborn baby and the poor mother who needed some peace , food and help.

I fail to understand why the Indian society still fails to give any recognition to the fact that a woman spends months contributing physically and emotionally ,to bring a new life into this world and she is not even asked for an opinion before decisions are made for her baby.. Sadly,relatives around take the liberty to make decisions for everything from name, surname, naming ceremony, one month ceremony and what not.The mother is most often treated as if her "duty" is over (if the baby is healthy she has done a neat job,otherwise she can bask in some verbal abuse) and pushed to the back burner to let the old n wise pitch in to take control. Any attempt by the mother to try to participate in the decision making (for instance by saying- I don't want to celebrate any ceremony for my baby) is immediately stamped as disobedience.But my point is if I know how to buy the flour and bake a bun, I know how to eat it too !!

What's in a name?

I  am probably among the very few % of people in the world who has a surname inherited from my mother as part of a well accepted social law - the matriarchal naming rule. My mother got it from her mother and she from her mother and so on (well I am absolutely clueless of what my surname- Kavungal Konoor means;Name of a place ?house name?person's name?).So technically my son should be named "Aditya K K " but his offsprings wouldn't get that surname as males don't get to propagate it..

But even though certain communities in Kerala once followed matriarchal system, they have now slowly replaced it by the well-accepted patriarchal one.Thus, you can hardly ever find any surname propagation like mine.I must say I often get offended while filling those forms which asks for a section that says -"Father's /Husband's Name". Sadly noone asks for "Mother's/Wife's Name".It's would seem like the ownership or guardianship has shifted from father to husband and irrespective of whether one's mother or wife takes care of one, they are of no value. I was pleasantly surprised and touched when my baby's name was written as B/O Divya (Baby Of Divya) in his record at the hospital I delivered at. The discharge summary also says that. It made me feel that finally some system recognized the fact that I exist and I am someone worthy of being written in some form or record.

When we went for our baby's first check up, the doctor while entering his data into the computer asked for the baby's name and I said-"Aditya Divya Vinod". She paused , looked at me and asked "Aditya Vinod"? I said-"Aditya Divya Vinod".
While we were discussing the name we would put for our baby , the most predictable would have been Aditya Nair (but considering Adiyta is only a 3/4th Nair by virtue of his mother being only a half Nair, the name Aditya Three Fourth Nair would have been more apt)..The other balanced name would have been Aditya Nair K K..(but considering we don't know who is Nair or KK, that would have sounded equally stupid)..Finally we decided to go for XXX Divya Vinod if it was a boy and XXX Vinod Divya if it was a girl. So here we are -parents of a boy who literally carries his family name !!