Life is a Tricky one

As these things go, I consider myself a realist. Which is to say that the tougher aspects of life such as death, poverty, suffering, move me but in general I am able to cope up with them. In the past week however I have been deeply moved by two everyday situations and they are making me stop for a while and give some thought to the way I measure happiness in my life.

The first was that of a house keeping worker at the beauty salon I go to frequently. It is your typical mid-tier salon run by a lady out of a small shop near a housing society. Clean, contemporary, but cramped. It is a 15'x15' space in which they have three treatment chairs, a room for privacy, a reception desk and a wash basin, leaving little or no space for the people who work there. Everyone squeezes past each other to get around when the place is full. The girls who work there will occasionally sit in the small room inside to stretch and get some rest but the same is not permitted for the elderly lady who does the housekeeping. She has been designated a small stool with a 1' diameter, right by the entrance. When I went there she was sitting on it all curled up,  her tired legs hitched up and her knees pulled up close to her chest. She had one square foot of space in that set up which she could call her "own" and she was all balled up to fit into it. At that moment she seemed to personify the struggle all of us face in this city everyday- the struggle to own that square footage of land and space that we can call our own. Space where we can sit and just be. And life had given her just one square foot of that.

The second was that of the building watchman sitting down for his evening meal. He was seated with his back to the entrance, drinking  water by his side in a used plastic beverage bottle, his food placed precariously on a 2" deep window ledge overlooking the rear parking. It was semi dark where he sat and everything about him seemed to say "I am lonely". It made me stop and thin-was he having his meal this way out of choice? I doubt it. If given an alternative would he not like a table and a chair, a well lit room and a proper chair and table and some clean drinking water with his meal? After all that is what his whole life's struggle is primarily for- three square meals a day. So why would he choose to have that in such a shoddy manner?

At one level his situation speaks of the apathy that we in India have for employees with that profile. Most watchmen sit on broken chairs with half torn cushions donated by some generous resident.In most cases they have atrocious toilet facilities and in the monsoons and winters,  most of them have no protection against the wrath of the elements. And at another, and perhaps deeper level, it speaks of the loneliness that is engulfing many residents of this city. We all sacrifice so much to just earn a living. Missed family dinners, birthdays, anniversaries all in the name of work. Livelihood and employment is so hard to come by and the competition so intense, that we forget what it is all for at the end- our families.We are okay with loneliness if it means we are able to put food on the table even if we have to eat it all by our self.

Even as I write this I am not sure why these incidents moved me but all I know is that they have forced me to stop and think. They made me re-evaluate my opinion of my life, re-evaluate how privileged I think I am. Like all people, I think I have some things missing in my life. I have my grouses with the world. But having seen the suffering in someone else's life, should I stop feeling that way? Should I instantly transform into an absolutely happy being because I have so much more emotional and financial security than a million other people in this city? Are happiness and satisfaction  relative measures?  Aren't they supposed to be your own? I don't have the answer yet. For now all I know is life is not an easy puzzle to crack- it is a tricky one, especially the part about defining and finding happiness.

Do not Underestimate the Power of a Routine

I will begin by confessing that I do not have one- a routine that is. But luckily I live among people who have one. My husband's grandmother who lives with us has a self-designed routine that is helping her manage the inevitable companions of old age- immobility and the consequential loneliness. Her days are measured out in a sequence of events- morning bath, followed by an hour dosing on her comfy chair, then an hour of prayers, breakfast, some TV watching and then her morning nap. She is so particular that she will sit on her chair post lunch till the clock strikes three. These small events help her to go through a sixteen hour waking cycle bit by manageable bit. If she did not have the routine, the thought of sitting in that same room, day in and day out, would just weigh down on her. Now her day is measured in smaller chunks and hence more comforting.

The other person who brings her routine into my house is my domestic worker. A single mother, she begins her day at 7 am and must get back home by 8 pm to be with her four year old daughter. When with me she has her task cut out and she knows that unless she follows a routine it is very easy for things to pile up and work to get effected. So the sequence of events helps keep the rhythm going. The part of her day that has started to bring a sense of familiar comfort to me is the evening prayer she does for granny on her way out. Her high-pitched nasal singing rings through the house every evening around 6:45 pm. Wherever we are in the house and whatever we maybe doing, we all know it is time for the evening chores to start and another day has gone by mostly peacefully. And most of all we know that granny is happy.

Today's world is a maddening place. Even for a stay at home mom like me who has no social life to speak of, you will be amazed at what googlies a day can throw up. It can range from a fire in my kitchen (it has happened I swear!) to a simple water shortage just when guests show up. And if it was not for the rhythm of the people around me and their subtle routines I would have nothing familiar, nothing comforting to hold on to. By being predictable, routine helps create some semblance of control and familiarity. And we could all do with more of that, right?

So go get a routine and if like me you do not have one because you are just not organised enough, beg, borrow or steal one :) You will live happier I promise.

Beyond the Buggy Bregade

There they were, the four of them, walking diligently, braving the brisk monsoon winds, their hands placed firmly on the hands of their individual strollers. My heart skipped a beat. It was not so long ago that I too had been wheeling around Kabir on these very streets just like this. It was an evening ritual that had given much needed respite to both of us. Out of the confines of the apartment, in the open, it was a time for a very different kind of bonding.

I still go down to the same play area with my lil guy but now he is a pre-schooler. There is no stroller for me to push and no handle bar for me to hold on to. He has graduated to the slides, swings and rides. Then why do I still feel like I am holding on to that handle bar of his stroller? Maybe it is not so easy to adopt another role if you have immersed yourself totally into motherhood for so long.

This thought crosses mind very often these days. And each time it leaves me terrified. Terrified at the thought of a transition. And the scariest part is that I have to make the transition myself. No one will be able to do it for me. But maybe here too I can learn from my brave lil boy. Starting school was tough for him. But now he has accepted that new role. He is building a new part of his life where there are people and things in addition to me. He still looks forward to coming back to me once school is over but he also looks forward to school every morning.  He has learnt to be a student and a friend in addition to being my sunny boy. Maybe it is time for me to also become something else. Not something instead of his mother , but something in addition to just being his mother.

Can you make something viral?

I just read about two completely unrelated incidents but having one thing in common- their online presence. The first is a simulation game developed by th UNHCR to help people "see and feel" what it is like to be a refugee. The second is a video of a bus monitor in Greece, NY who was verbally abused by young boys. While the guys at UNHCR are racking their brains about how to get people interested in this game about a really serious issue, the second video already has thousands of hits and has raised close to half a million for the abused lady. This just makes me wonder if you can ever really "make" something viral? Viral by definition means something that spreads very rapidly because it is able to strike a chord with people immediately and makes them want to pass it on, share it. So while the issue that the UNHCR is trying to talk about is far more grave and global than the abuse of a bus monitor and juvenile hooliganism, it will go viral if it finds a place in people's hearts, just like the video of the bus monitor. The developers of the game are quoted as saying that they are not looking for popularity like that of Angry Birds. But if a completely irrational game where birds need to be launched from a catapult to break some inane eggs in wooden castles can have universal appeal, why not this very rational, very real issue? The answer is perhaps not that easy, and it's still a mystery what makes something viral.

Gods in the Workplace

I am sitting patiently waiting my turn at the newly upgraded branch of a Public Sector bank in suburban Mumbai. It is like almost any other bank, there are the tellers, the counters, the people who look slightly fearful because they are afraid that one wrong signature or an error on some innocuous form might actually jeopardise their lives' savings, and finally there are the customary Ganesha and Lakshmi pictures in gaudy golden frames inside the Branch Manager's air-conditioned cabin. I almost don't take any notice of them till it strikes me that this branch must serve people who are not practicing Hindus! And that makes me wonder how they must feel about this open display of religion, this lack of secularism?

Ganesha is the God of good luck, the destroyer of all evil and obstacles, and Lakshmi is the goddess of wealth and prosperity. So their presence at an institution of financial management would be very appropriate if it was not for the fact that this symbolism only works for a part of the bank's clientele. To give another example, I also know of a large Indian conglomerate that will not permit non-vegetarian food in its premises because the Chief Executive who was also the owner-promoter comes from a caste that does not eat meat. What is more, the company makes it mandatory for all its employees, irrespective of religious conviction, to attend a prayer meeting on Diwali to do the "muhurat Lakshmi pujan"- clearly a Hindu affair.

 I am not sure if the Managers who put these pictures up or conduct this religious pooja really ever stop to consider what their actions mean. Perhaps they think it is appropriate because this is all second nature to them, this is what they personally believe in. The truth is, whether we like it or not, the personal creeps into our professional lives however hard we may try to keep the two apart. So you see, when we make tall claims of keeping our two lives separate, we ignore the fact that the person who walks through the doors of the office typing furiously on that BBM, is the same person who went to bed last night praying to his very personal deity that the next day may bring him professional success.

Breast feeding older kids- a touchy subject

I just a BBC.COM article about the front cover of the latest edition if Time magazine. It shows a young woman standing upright with a child suckling at her left breast. Nothing unusual except that the child is standing on a stool and is obviously way beyond average breast feeding age. I haven't read the article but the picture itself says a few things to me that I would like to talk and think more about 1) Eye catching and bold- so full marks to the Editor for breaking through the clutter 2) Unusual subject- why should this be a cover story unless it's a matter big enough to warrant this attention 3) Frankly why all the bur ha ha? Why should breast feeding be such a big deal. It's a personal choice that a mother makes and she should have the freedom to make that choice 4) What is more shocking- the photograph or the fact that some women breast feed for that long? Decide people All the noise about this making it more difficult for women to breast feed in public is just crap. People in sub saharn Africa roam around with nothing more than loin cloths and they lead happy full lives. While not propagating nudity I so think that we as a "civilised" society should not be so squeamish about a woman's breast. While being a body part with sexual implications it's most important function is to lactate. A picture of a breast is context should be treated appropriately. If you can change a child's diaper you can breast feed. A deeper look at the picture shows a message in the attitude of the model- I am breast-feeding my child and I am proud of it. If you have a problem with it, that's your problem not mine. While most mothers would not like to be photographed like that, here perhaps it was important to portray the act in an unconventional way so that the unconventional message could be conveyed and everyone forced to take notice.

When I was alone I said Jalebi!

Yes this is what I said out aloud when recently I found myself alone in the elevator even though it sounds really odd and frankly is a little embarrassing to admit on my blog. But it is the truth. If we stop and consider for a moment, odd thoughts, just like my sudden craving for jalebi, are actually not so uncommon when we are truly alone with our thoughts. Think about it. Have you recently been alone in an elevator or a conference room all by yourself? I can bet at least a few times this year. Haven't you heard the uncanny sound of your thoughts running in your brain? A fear of heights that you don't like to think about, a sinfully expensive manicure that you told no one about, a fetish for late night re-runs of the despicable Jerry Springer maybe? All in all it is a moment of truth when we are by ourselves because we can lie to the whole world but can not lie to ourselves. In this increasingly crowded world where information, communication and interactions constantly surround us and where socialising is a compulsion, it is hard to be alone just with our innermost thoughts. But if we make the time and keep our ears open, we maybe surprised at what we learn the next time we are alone. Maybe like me you will discover that you have a sweet tooth and get off the elevator to go back and get that jalebi immediately!