I can never thank you enough for being you…

On June 3, I read this on Pepper’s blog and I could not stop myself from commenting. When I used to be an “active blogger,” I followed a lot of bloggers — all of whom I still do; only, I’ve stopped commenting on their blogs — because I sometimes read posts in bits and pieces and most times, I cannot comment because of lack of time or connectivity or some such. And, I definitely do not want to be accused of commenting only some blogs and not all 😉 😉 😉 So, I generally lurk, read and slip away. Pepper’s post about the heat/humidity and the AC and her mom — I don’t know why it tugged at some corner of my heart, but it did. I commented and told her to give her mom a tight hug from me and tell her I would worship her 🙂

I don’t know why it touched me so much. Could be because my mom was here…and I was having an awesome “mommy time” with her 🙂 Just the two of us — for the first time. I don’t remember ever having spent such days together — just her and me. The brother or father was always there 🙂

Well, she’d been worried sick about me since the time I moved house 😀 Every time I got on the phone with her, she would tell me that she was always busy till about 11.30 every night — and by then she’d know I’d be fast asleep…and that each night, after 11.30, she would sit and think of me living alone and worry about me for half an hour 😀 I thought that was funny; she did not think so.  So, she’d taken a vacation and come to spend 10 days with me.

When she came, she was recovering from a fever and wasn’t in the best of her spirits. And I was a little worried — because she seemed to have aged drastically, in the past 4 months that I had not seen her. And she was walking really slowly — which reminded me of my grandmom 😦 She looked at least 10 years older, and I told her that. Worried, close to being alarmed, I told her she needs to rest more, eat healthy and take good care of self. She kept telling me it was the fever hangover. Two days, I remained worried. She was not her usual self. I was glad I’d decided to take two full days off from work. Normally, when she is in the house, no matter which house it is, she takes over kitchen 🙂 This time, I did not let that happen. I cooked, made her tea now and then, told her stories, had serious discussions, shared fun stories , and generally gave her rest.

The third day, on a Saturday, she recovered fully. The first thing she did was to walk quickly up and down my living room some 5 times to show me she is not old 😀 😀

And then we had a great time for the rest of her visit. Well, we did not budge from the house 😀 She did not want to go anywhere. So I joined back at work on Tuesday, and remained busy till 8 p.m. all those days. Thankfully, the work days were not as crazy as they normally are. So, we had pointless fun discussions, poignant serious ones and had much fun.

I taught her easy-to-make “rice items” — jeera rice, tomato rice, puliyodharai, lemon rice, etc — and she experimented with one each for each meal. Thrilled at how easy each was to make, she took copious notes of each one’s recipe and preparation methods. And then she called up my dad who’s been making his own meals — and for lil’ Bruce and my brother. I watched as she animatedly explained to dad how these were all easy-to-make but tasty recipes 😀 Well, if I never knew it till now, now I know where I get my “animated persona” from 😛  I also realised where I’d inherited the palm-on-cheek “ouch” pose from 😛

I had grand plans of taking her for a drive and showing off my new-found skills 😉 But none of that happened. Since, I did not want her freaking out much, I had thought it’d be best to take her for a drive after the traffic died slightly. Which would only be after 9.30 where I live. Only,  the rain gods had their own plans. It rained torrentially all those evenings 🙂

While Pumbaa and I jumped around in joy at the torrential thunderstorms, Mom sat and comforted the scared Khloe. While I WhatsApp-ed and checked mail and chatted with folks on phone, she went about silently, dusting every nook and corner of the house. On work days, while I spent most of my time staring at my laptop, Mom cooked me yummy meals and put the house in order. While I was on calls, she peeled and sliced my favourite mangoes and “delivered” it in bowls right next to my laptop so I did not have to budge. While I stepped out one evening to meet a friend for a while, she sat in the balcony looking out for me.  While I played around with Pumbaa and Khloe, she folded all my clothes.

Needless to say, I did not notice any of these things till she was all packed and ready to leave. On the day of her return, with only 2 minutes to leave the house, she realised she hadn’t folded my clothes from the previous day’s laundry and looked at me with a most devastated expression, saying “Aiyooooo! Molde thuniyonnnum madakkeela! Sorry!”, with her signature palm-on-cheek pose! I was stunned! I had never even expected it to be done. And that’s when I realised that the folded clothes I’d been dumping into my cupboard each day was not the work of a laundry angel, but my Mom’s doing. That’s when I noticed the second bedroom looking spic and span. That’s when I noticed all the dust gone from everywhere. That’s when I noticed that my bed was made. That’s when I noticed that the past few days had been SO FULL OF LIFE.

At her apology for not folding my clothes, I told her she is a “chakkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkara, sooo cute you are!” and her eyes shone happily — and I was glad to see that she definitely did not look even a year older, forget 10 🙂

Today morning, I still could remember vividly her expression when she said sorry for not folding my clothes. And for the first time in my life, I thought to myself, “I guess one needs to be a mother to be able to be like that…” Well, I don’t think I have it in me to be anything like mine! In fact, I have already reseerved truckloads of sympathy for my “someday” children 😀

It’s just been a day since she left — and it feels like forever. I miss her sooooo bad, I wish she either did not come, or I’d gone with her back to Trivandrum! And I sooooo envy my brother for being able to live in the same house as she, even now 😐 I think I must crib about being “lonely” now onward, so she’d come over more often 😉  And the next time she comes, I should get my dad and Bruce to come too — so she would not be in any hurry to return 🙂

Amma, I love you so much, and I can never thank you enough for being you — so awesome! 🙂

The paris she saw…

…was beautiful, awesome and sexy. Just like she is, I’d say 😉 And by “she”, I mean my mother 🙂

She went to Paris with my brother, to attend his convocation.  Amma’s never been out of India before, so I found it pretty amazing that her very first international trip was straight to Paris!

🙂 Fantastique, n’est-ce pas?! 🙂

Right from my earliest memories, Amma has only sacrificed — be it a chocolate, be it the last piece of her favourite fish fry, be it a chance to buy that lovely sari, be it a chance to indulge, be it a shopping-for-self treat, be it a good night’s sleep…you name it, and she HAS sacrificed it: either for me, or for my brother, or for dad, or for her mom, or for her siblings or their spouses/kids, or for her in-laws. For her, “me” and “I” was (and still is) after “you”, “them” and “they”.

So, when the brother got into ESTACA, Paris, to get his Masters in Spacecraft Engineering, both he and I knew that his convocation would be either at Paris, or at Southampton (his course was to be two years, the first year conducted at Paris, and the second at Southampton) — and we’d been planning since then, to ensure Amma gets to attend the convocation 😉 Of course, we never told her this, since we didn’t want to get her hopes high.

It was only when we needed to make her sign for the Visa applications and stuff that it really sunk in, for her, that she was going to Paris. We were praying that the Visa would be alright and there would be no glitches. I also have a feeling one of us drugged Murphy, for there were absolutely no glitches! 🙂

The few days before the trip, she was in a frenzy. “I feel weird, and I don’t know why…” she kept saying. We shopped for her — bought her a new pair of spectacles, new shoes, new dress… We taught her some basic French, though she insisted she’d respond with a  “Khem cho” if anyone asked her “Comment allez vous?” 😛 We told her to make sure no random frenchman would grab her and kiss her. We told her the ONLY food she’ll get in Paris would be “bouillabaisse” (this grossed her out!). You get the idea, right? 😀

The way her face lit up every time we said “Yay! You’re going to Paris”, was one of the most wonderful things! 🙂 On May 23, Amma and my brother set off to Paris.

She had an awesome time at Paris.

The convocation was a small, private affair with just the students and their two guests each, on a cruise boat that went cruising along the Siene river from 7 – 11 pm 🙂  Dressed in traditional Indian attire, she apparently stole the limelight and had quite a few fans 😉

A proud moment

She was made to walk all over the city by my brother, so that she could take in the Parisian streets, houses and shops. She got on to the Paris Metro, and almost got mugged by a french belle and a boyefriend 😉 She named the Arc de Triomphe her very own “gate”, like the India Gate :D. She felt the Louvre was too big, and there was too much walking to do — and all this, to see a lot of nude statues 😀 Funniest of all, she felt the Monalisa was too small, for the whole world to kick up such a huge hype about her! ROFLMAO! She loved the Moulin Rouge, but the sex shops on both sides of the street freaked her out. She was glad to see that the women were all fully and well-dressed, and there was no public display of affection that an Indian woman could not handle with dignity. LOL. “The movies are all a load of fakeness 🙄 “, she said.

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We had planned the trip such that the return would be via Doha, Qatar, where her two sisters and family live. So, two birds at one shot: she went to Paris, and she went to Doha as well.

On early 4 June morning, Amma came home beaming with joy, was welcomed by an exuberant Pumbaa and had many tales to tell. I’d have loved to go o Paris too — but I’m much, much, MUCH MORE HAPPIER knowing Amma could go, see and enjoy a place she never even dreamt of going to.

À bientôt, folks 🙂

Child Development, Nutrition and Inter-personal Relationships :)

The officer at the Driving License counter asked the lady “What is your occupation?” The woman seeking renewal of her license seemed to be puzzled. So the officer said “Ma’am, are you employed, have your own business or…….. The woman replied “Oh, yes!! I have a full time occupation. I am a mother.”

Officer: “We don’t have ‘mother’ as an option for occupation. I will write it down as ‘Housewife’. That takes care of all questions.”

This had happened long ago, and was forgotten. Years later when I went to get my license, the Public Relations Officer was a somewhat pompous woman. “Your occupation?” she asked in a rather authoritative tone.

I just had an inspiration and replied “I am a researcher in the field of Child Development, Nutrition and Inter-personal Relationships.” The lady officer stared at me in amazement. I calmly repeated my statement and she wrote it down verbatim. Then, unable to conceal her curiosity, she politely asked “What exactly do you do in your profession, Ma’am?”

I was feeling good about having described my occupation so calmly and confidently. So I replied “My research projects have been going on for a number of years (mothers never retire!!). My research is conducted in the laboratory as well as in the field. I have two bosses. (One is God and the other is my entire family). I have received two honours in this field (a son and a daughter). My topic is considered to be the most difficult part of sociology (all moms will agree!!). I have to work more than 14 hours every day. Sometimes even 24 hours are not enough and the challenges are tougher than many other professions. My compensation is in terms of mental satisfaction rather than money.”

I could see that the officer was thoroughly impressed. After completing the licensing formalities, she came to the door to see me off. This new viewpoint about my occupation made me feel much better on my way back home. I was welcomed by my 5 year old research assistant at the door. My new project (my 6 month old baby) was energetically practicing her ‘music’.

I had earned a small victory over the Governmental red tape today. I was no longer ‘merely a mother’, instead I was now a highly placed functionary in a service vital for mankind – Motherhood!!

‘Mother’ – Isn’t it a great title?

P.S.: Thanks for this forward, UmaS 🙂 I felt this was too fabulous to not share! Please, share this as much as you can, as widely as you can. No one will book you for plagiarism 😉

And to the “mother” who said all this: you are fabulous!

Pongala: for the Devi, by the devis

Looks like if I’m not travelling, I have nothing to write about 😀

Well, not entirely true. I did write a love letter, for CB‘s latest contest “love is in the air”. There were two parts in the contest: on was to create badges, and the other, to write a love letter. Well, halfway through the design, I realised the deadline had passed 😀 so i gave up. Which meant I also gave up on the yet-to-begin love letter, till CB extended the deadline. (Damn! There was no excuse i could give after that :D)

Today is Pongala, and I thought I might write about how we celebrated it.

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For the uninitiated, Pongala is a religious festival celebrated by Hindu women. ‘Pongala‘ means ‘to boil over’ — and on this day, women devotees get together for the ritualistic offering of payasam: a porridge made of rice, sweet brown molasses (or sugar), grated coconut, nuts and raisins.

It’s celebrated across a few temples in South India, but it’s been made famous by the Attukal Temple at Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala. It’s the one time when the sleepy Thiruvananthapuram city witnesses a night that’s longer than the day 😉 Women from all over South India (I guess there are people from all over the country now) gather in the city, near or in the temple premises, stocked with the ingredients, round earthen pots, bricks and tiber from the coconut trees.

On a day or two prior to the festival:
Women travel to the city and set up temporary homes on the roadsides. They book their spots on the roads, lanes, footpaths and shop fronts in a radius of several kilometres around the temple (fighting for the one nearer to the temple). The bus stands and the railways station are NOT the place to be, if you’re not a devout devotee, and especially of you’re a member of the male gender 😉

The roads are filled with vehicles bursting with their occupancy. The city dwellers don their hospitality hats and wait their turns to help the devotees. They let their courtyards be used as tent spots, let the devotees use their precious toilets, offer excellent home-cooked suppers and comfort elements — for they consider the very act of a hospitality a means to please the Goddess!

A visit to the temple is mandatory on the previous day; so is a fasting. If you are a man, you will not be allowed anywhere near the areas where the festival is in progress—unless you’re a badge-donning member of the temple volunteer group or the police force.

On the Pongala day:
All the arteries of this tiny town—less than a hundred and fifty square kilometres of land area—becomes look-alike rows of make-shift stoves ready to be lit. No vehicles ply within the city; the police and volunteers stop them at the outskirts. Volunteers set up free food-and-lemonade stalls at every 500 meters!

Security is the biggest concern of the government on the day—what combo could be worse than crowds of women and fire!? Over 5000 police men and 500 women constables plus more senior officials. Volunteer organisations work around the clock to provide medical aid, food, water and help. And the day experiences an uncanny pleasant demeanor by all people, and there is no bossing round, no bad attitudes, no negativity.

A cannon sound reverberates when the priest lights the hearth within the temple. The flame is quickly passed from the sacred hearth to others, and in an unbelievable and superb gesture of community participation, over a million hearths burn up class, creed and sects on this day, as the Devi replaces everything in their hearts with devotion and prayers.

The city is then enveloped in a cloudy cloak.

While some struggle to light a hearth and handle the smoke, sun and the streaming eyes, there are others who, having participated for many years, handle up to a 101 hearths: an auspicious number for everything divine. Another cannon announces the “boiling over” at the temple, and then the wait begins — for the temple representative priests to sprinkle the offering with scared water, as a sign of the Goddess’ blessing. Once the holy water is sprinkled on each one’s earth, they’re ready to head home.

Women also use this opportunity to exchange addresses and goodies. Traffic begin its craziness and vehicles make a slow-moving bee-line to various parts of the city and out of it.

Over 2 million burning hearths and twenty square kilometres of land! Fire, gender security, pollution, traffic problems, the concerns are numerous. But they’re all overcome and the pongala continues to be a success year after year.

Pic source: http://attukalpongala-festival.blogspot.com/

After the festival:
The city is a mess after the festival: miles of blackened bricks, firewood and earthenware. You may not have seen where the food-and-lemonde stalls were, but the left over cups and the paper plates will tell a tale. And before one knows it, its time for the sanitation workers to jump in for the rescue of the roads. By late night, the city is back to what it was two days back 😉

A ceremonial rain (which has marked its presence every single year) washes down the pollution and the smoke: Nature’s certification of a festival well-celebrated.

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Of the pongala tales I’ve heard, the one bit that has been vivid is that it used to be a festival for the poor. Apparently, in the olden days, the house helps were the ones who used to participate in the festival. It was considered a festival / a day off for them, to revel in the Goddess’s blessings and attention. But over the years, as the festival became more popular. it became a matter of ‘participation’, I guess. And today, like everything else, we have a pongala that’s commercialised. Media channels interview ‘stars’ who ‘share space with the non-stars, the lesser mortals*rolling eyes*! It’s no longer a day that allows the “poor” to have a dedicated day with the Devi. Sigh!

Anyway, today being pongala, Amma was busy and ‘not-on-kitchen-duty’. Though initially she had been all sad she wasn’t at Thiruvananthapuram to be a part of it, when we decided “God’s everywhere” and she could easily “boil over” up on our terrace, Amma was thrilled 😀 Well, heaven was just a little further up than three stories high 😉

Amma's little terrace-temple 😉 and the pongala payasam in the making 🙂 Pic courtesy: my brother

After a long time, I was put on kitchen duty for the day 😀 But of course, I woke up late, and Amma had to take care of breakfast. Boy, was she pissed!

After all the scoldings and everything for ‘almost’ spoiling her day, I went to the kitchen 😀 And while she sat out in the hot sun, lit a fire and made the pongala payasam, I stayed back in the cool kitchen and made Mushroom Biriyani for lunch 😉

The Mushroom Biriyani I made and we binged on 😉

Pumbaa binged on it too 😀 He wagged his tail, licked me and (almost) said “Pumbaastic lunch that was!” 😀 😀 😀

Took the recipe from Nag’s Edible Garden and added my own 2 cents (i tnd to do tht all the time; mostly, the result is yumm, but i’ve had my share of yucks too) 😀

Personally, I’ve never quite liked this festival — only because pongala, as far as i can remember always constituted an off-work day for Amma: but she’d be out the entire day and would come back in the evening tanned, tired and tyrannic 😀 Well, she had a migraine problem and over 5 minutes in the sun could give her a headache…so imagine a whole day out there in the heat, smoke and pollution. Pongala evenings were always of payasam, and “be quiet, i have a headache” and us tiptoeing around to give Amma a quiet time. No, not a good, ‘fun’ festival 😀 And a sun-hater myself, I’ve NEVER been out there for a single pongala!

The only good part was the holiday at school and college — but again, since the traffic comes to a stand still the entire day, the ‘holiday’ always went for a waste and we were all stuck at home. I really don’t think such things should be imposed on the entire population. What of the people who do not participate, the ones who do not believe in it, the ones who might have an emergency? life cannot come to a standstill just for the sake of a celebration 😦

Anyways, after a rather long time, I enjoyed this year’s ‘pongala‘ — one that was minus the crowds, minus the pollution, minus the smoke, minus the heat, minus an Amma who comes back home in the evening with a bad headache and a badder mood 😉

The payasam was extra tasty this time! 🙂