Keen on Clean: Thanks Mom & Dad!!!

So this is one of those times when I've read something that just compels me to post immediately (or as 'immediately' as my lil baby will allow :D) I was casually bloghopping this morning, when I saw on someone's blogroll, a post with the intriguing title "No one ever thanked their mom in an acceptance speech for keeping the house clean".

I was ridiculously happy on reading it; I mean, there I was battling an oncoming headache, trying to think positive and keep it at bay and then I read this post, was grinning from ear to ear, all potential aches & pains vanquished!!! That's how great it feels to know that there are other people who take cleanliness very seriously, because as I have resignedly observed, most of the people I know, don't.

And I guess that's due to the fact that as Sraboney Ghose titled her post, no one ever thanked their mom in an acceptance speech for keeping the house clean. As my mother noted several times over the years, housework is a thankless job; there's no reward in it other than your own satisfaction of living in a clean home and the occassional recognition from those rare souls who think like you.

Growing up, both my parents raised us to be particular about cleanliness. We pitched into help and did whatever mom asked us to do (sometimes a bit later than when she wanted it done :D). We enjoyed living in our clean & beautiful home, but I have to admit that most of the time, especially in my younger years, I took it for granted. It was only towards the end of my teens and later that I really started observing other houses, seeing the very noticeable difference between others' and my home, and realizing the worth of my mother's tireless daily efforts.

But this post is not so much about her's or my dad's hard work, as it is about my response to it. Sraboney's post drove home a point: it struck me that, in comparison to how much sweat & blood they've given to the maintenance of our home, I haven't thanked them nearly enough. Sure, I've mentally thanked God countless times for parents like them, but I haven't said it to them as often as I should have.

I have been a homemaker for almost two years now and try daily to live up to the same values my parents instilled in me. I have an additional responsibility now of fostering the same in my little girl, and its easier said than done. Looking back at my own life, I know how many years it took me to realize what my parents had done (and are still doing!), let alone acknowledge & appreciate it.

My mother once said that its thanks enough when she comes to my home and sees that I'm living the way I was raised, that I run my home the way I was taught. But a verbal (or written!) expression of gratitude never hurt anyone, right?

I might never have a chance to deliver an acceptance speech in front of the world, so I guess my blog is as public as it gets for now. Nonetheless, Mom & Dad, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU FOR RAISING ME TO KEEP THE HOUSE CLEAN!!!

More Money, More Faith?

I got started on this post quite a few days ago when I read this terrific piece by Amrita, but with one thing and another, blogging took a backseat and I couldn't complete it with the same steam that I had begun. I also needed time to think, to do a little introspection and get my thoughts in order. I feel very passionately on these subjects and can be very vocal on them, so some distance was needed if I wanted to produce a coherent post. Hopefully, I've succeeded.

My first instinct right after reading Amrita's post was to rant about how people needlessly fritter small fortunes away on flowers, garlands, fireworks and other frivolities.

Does He really need them? In the grand scheme of things, what are a few flowers offered at any one place of worship when you compare it to the vast variety He Himself has created? And fireworks ..... the lakhs and lakhs spent on them! One explosion of sound, a few seconds worth of flash and glitter and poof! Its over. How does that match up to the unimaginable wonders that exist in His universe - the stars, the shooting stars, planets, comets, galaxies that have endured since beyond our comprehension?

But then a small voice in my head said: Don't I like attending mass in a clean church with fresh flowers and candles at the altar? Don't I appreciate the paintings, sculptures and other ornaments that adorn the interiors? Don't I get excited to see the extra lights and decorations at festivals? Don't I watch fireworks displays as enthralled as any child?

What about in my home itself? Don't I like to have a well-decorated altar? Don't I light candles and place flowers there? Don't I like to jazz up my home during festivals? Christ was born in a shabby little manger and there were definitely no sparkling lights, no shiny decorations around at that time ..... so why do I bother with them at Christmas?

Now let's move outside to the buildings themselves. Don't I pause to ooh and aah over a beautifully built church / temple / mosque or any other place of worship? The more exquisite the architecture and the embellishments, the more money involved in its construction. But as I gaze at them in awestruck wonder, do I care about how much it would have cost? Even if my thoughts turn to money, do I begrudge it, do I think it a waste? No ....... its for God, I'd say.

But can any human creation possibly compare to His creation???

So then why do we do it?

These things are a token of our faith, our humble efforts to honour God. I emphasize 'humble' because again, in comparison with His works, anything we do is just that - humble. And more importantly, these are mere tokens; they cannot be the sum & substance of our faith.

Many priests whose sermons I've had the privilege of hearing, constantly stressed the need to go beyond mere ritualism and tokenism and actually live our faith. This simply meant keeping the ideals of love, service and forgiveness paramount in all aspects of life, something I believe all the great religions of this world preach.

But sadly, many people seem to believe that the more money they spend on religious activities, the more God will be pleased with them. Its far, far easier to hand out some notes or write a cheque than it is to practice "love, service and forgiveness" in the daily grind of life. But ultimately, it isn't how much you have, but how you live your life that matters.

Its not that we shouldn't spend money at all on our religious functions; just as long as we remember that whatever we do, we do it to glorify Him, not to glorify ourselves. And as we spend, I think we should also remember that we are duty-bound to help those in need. There has to be a balance between celebrations, donations and trying to live our daily lives by His word for faith and worship to be truly meaningful.

Hello New Blues!!!

Yesterday was the first time I set foot in a department store in over two months - quite a break for a weekend-window-shopping-loving person. We headed straight to the baby & maternity-wear section, and it was such a thrill to see all the teeny-tiny lil clothes!!! Even the outfits for older kids were so unbelievably cute ...... ah, to be a child today!!!!!

But then we got down to the business at hand - getting the mama some clothes :) The maternity-wear selection was very basic at this particular store, but to my absolute delight ........ there was a pair of jeans very similar to my old favourites!!! I tried them on, and man, I cannot describe how incredibly comfortable they were!!!

In fact, I would recommend that if, like me, you struggle with a lil extra tummy weight (even ordinarily!), go in for a pair of maternity-wear jeans, seriously!!!

The Weight of Happiness

Written last week, posted today thanks to the ever-unreliable services of BSNL.
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I suppose most women tend to be at their slimmest best for their weddings.

Not me.

I'd finished my dissertation - nearly a year's worth of sitting in front of the computer, my mind at work 24x7, constantly needing food-fuelling to maintain my momentum. After that, I landed a job with a 10-hour workday, again pretty much seated at a desk the whole time. Somewhere along the line, I met the man I would marry and due to various practicalities and constraints, our wedding date was fixed a scant three months later.

November was my last month at work, as I'd wanted to spend a month's quality time with my family. However, that month also brings Christmas along, highlighted by my mom's superb cooking and Christmas cakes and goodies. So even though I tried to compensate by going for walks regularly, the ultimate result was still that, at the time of my wedding, I was the plumpest (objectively, I still wouldn't say 'fattest'!) I'd ever been in my life. That's how my in-laws and the rest of hubby's huge extended family saw me for the first time, and by Kerala standards where big is beautiful, I was alright!

A few days later, after all the festivities were completed and it was just hubby & me here in Bangalore, I assumed the responsibilities of a homemaker and life settled into a happy routine.

Cut to May 2008.

My mom and her mom were coming for a week-long visit. At the airport, I rushed forward eagerly once I spotted mom, and the first thing she said as she hugged me was, "Baby, you've lost so much weight!"

"Huh", I said. "Really? Oh, I hadn't noticed."

And as strange as it may seem, I truly hadn't. It was only after my mother, who's seen me all through these years, told me that I'd lost weight, did I realise that I'd finally achieved a goal I'd been pursuing (albeit not very determinedly!) since the age of 16. Only after she told it to me, did I realise that my pants & jeans were slipping down my waist, certain loose-fitting tops and kurtis hung limply on me, and t-shirts that once had me sucking my tummy in, now fit smoothly and without any added effort from me :D

I was thrilled!!! I was beyond thrilled, I was ecstatic!!! I had finally, FINALLY done it, though unintentionally. How??? I kept asking myself. I walked regularly and played table tennis with hubby a few times a week, but surely that couldn't compare to say, the two month aerobics classes, or the three-month intense gym workouts that I'd once done (neither of which resulted in any significant weight loss).

Nor was I dieting - for a foodie like me, whose entire set of 32 teeth are really sweet, 'diet' is a bad, bad word. Some might think I was stressed out, or moping coz I was away from my family for the first time, but no, that wasn't it; I was happily married, blissfully thankful for the life I had and anyway, when I'm stressed, I pig out.

So how then? Observing my lifestyle, mom said it was simply that I was active throughout the day ..... I wasn't sitting at a desk for hours together, I was constantly moving about, cooking or puttering around the house, and that, she said, was making the real difference, of course, supplemented by the walks and table tennis.

And I was thrilled!!! I was beyond thrilled, I was ecstatic!!! Did I write this before??? Hell, yes, but I don't care because that's how ecstatic I am!!!

BUT.......

I was in the minority, the very small minority of people who were thrilled. On subsequent trips to hubby's hometown, everybody's first comment was how much weight I had lost, and all conversation would revolve around that for the next few minutes. Initially, hubby's parents kept berating him, that he wasn't taking enough care of me etc etc, till I sat his mom down, and clearly explained the above saga to her. She was sort of convinced then, but how do you explain it to scores of neighbours, friends and relatives, all firmly conditioned to think that a new bride losing weight like this surely means problems in the marriage?

And if I thought that it was only in Kerala that my weight would be an issue, man, was I in for a rethink! Friends and relatives in the UAE and more recently in Bombay were flabbergasted! Most people found it incredibly difficult to get over. Some of my more outspoken buddies exclaimed outright: "She's not happy!" with a sort of perverse glee (hmmm, I should seriously reconsider these friendships!)

Even after the initial few minutes of explanations, when the conversations were like an hour old, I would get quiet, serious-faced questions: "You're sure you're ok, na?", "There are no problems with your husband, right?" And so on and so forth.

Only four people in Bombay, seemed genuinely delighted by the slimmer me and told me that I looked great. Only one college friend disagreed with the rest, and said of course she's happy, look at her smile, she's glowing from within!

Obviously, I did expect reactions to my weight loss, but somehow I’d naively assumed that my friends would be happy for me. I certainly didn’t expect everyone’s parting comments as they hugged me goodbye to be along the lines of “Next time we see you, you should’ve put on some weight”. What the hell??!!

Even though I’ve lost weight, I still cannot be considered thin, nor do I ever want to ..... I rather like my curves :) And its not that I’m looking hollowed out or miserable; hubby & my family are my most brutally honest critics and they’re totally ok with my appearance. Most importantly, I am totally ok with it!!!

Honestly, I don’t expect this phase to last very long, I know that eventually I will gain more weight and I’m totally ok with that too. But still, it feels fantastic that at least for once in my life, I produced some head-turning, eye-popping, jaw-dropping reactions!!!

And I am thrilled!!! I am beyond thrilled, I am ecstatic!!!

In case you were wondering what the fuss is all about, I lost 9 kilos last year!

Wishful Thinking

Yesterday, one of the news channels ran a story on the kind of gizmos the 26/11 terrorists were carrying, and also on how intensively and extensively they were trained. As I saw the story, I was once again amazed by the tremendous wealth such organizations possessed, and even more amazed by the brains and the management behind such acts of terror.

And then I wondered, wished ......

What if the people who masterminded these acts of destruction put their considerable talent and resources to constructive use? If they invested all those millions wasted in weaponry, into schools and colleges, into creating jobs - honest, legal jobs - so that their youth could have a chance at a decent life, instead of being filled with hate and going down paths that lead only to death?

When I think about it this way, of all the good that could've been done with that much money, that much ability, the sense of loss is staggering!!!

How can these people be so blind, so stupid??? And then to keep saying that they're doing all this for their God ........ what an insult it is to God!!!

Here's a thought: instead of executing innocent people, how about lending a helping hand in whatever way possible? Instead of dying for God, how about living for God???

My symbol of peace

'First time' occurrence today: saw the moon, or at least a pale shadow of it, at 1 p. m.

What's so special, you might ask. Well.....I love the moon. I love looking at it. The sight of the moon, whether a faint crescent or a brightly glowing orb, has always put a smile on my face, even in the worst of my moods.

I tend to overthink things - small things, big things, something is always going on in my head, and its easy to get overwhelmed by it all sometimes. But when I see the moon, its like everything.....calms down. I feel at peace, especially if its a brightly glowing full moon.

But the biggest treat, and to me, one of the most glorious sights in all of nature's wonder, is a red moonrise. I've only ever caught glimpses of it, usually while travelling - twisting and turning in my seat to see it better :)

It's one of my deepest desires to have enough time and of course, be in the right place, to watch a red moon rise, uninterrupted. I think I've blogged about this before, but it's worth remembering again.....I feel peaceful.

Keep running

"Sometimes life is like a treadmill:

you keep running, but you get nowhere."

This came to me as I walked passed a gym yesterday and saw someone on a treadmill. At the time, I thought I was having one of my (rare) moments of insight, but now I can't help thinking that I've read this somewhere. Hmmm.

Interesting thought, anyway. Pessimistic, but interesting.

Life is a Cycle

Picking up where I left off:

Life is a cycle…
and I'm learning to ride.
Though I fall
more often than I move ahead,
beyond the burn
of every bruise
lies a lesson
waiting to be learnt:
sometimes in confidence,
sometimes in humility;
sometimes in turning the other cheek,
sometimes in an eye for an eye.

Contradictions? Yes.
For isn't that the answer
to cycling well:
Finding your balance.

© me

What it is we hold on to

I don't think I'm the sort of person who enthusiastically embraces change, or at least not in my personal life. It's not that I avoid change, no. I accept, I face and I move on.....but in my own time and in my own way, after much dwelling on my life as it has been..... savouring the good, learning from the bad.

I love introspection (just realised that!) I do it all the time, but I’ve just realised that I love it as I type these words. Funny how realisations strike sometimes!

I love going over my life..... people I've met & loved & sometimes lost… things I've done & seen & said.....I think I’ve emerged stronger and wiser through all of it.

So, recently when my friend ThoughtWarp mused over “What it is that we hold on to?”, I had so many answers. Moments that are with you all the time, moments that lie in the back of your mind; forgotten moments that are relived and relished when you see an old photo, talk to an old friend, maybe read an old post???

I totally agree that it isn’t possible to “capture” life in its entirety. But I think its worth the effort to hold every precious moment possible, especially when you’re faced with change….and life as you know it will never be the same.

Thanks to the Romance Novel

My favourite genre of fiction is romance - contemporary, historical, 'paranormal'.....doesn't matter, I love them all. I've been reading romances for nearly 10 years now and the attraction still hasn't waned. Some might snidely & cynically dismiss it to getting cheap thrills, but no, that's not it. I'm basically a sentimental, romantic fool at heart, forced to adopt a practical facade to survive this world. So in those moments when there's no one to be practical for, I like to indulge the fool.

Giving in to the "practical" requests of some, I have, on occasion, tried to "elevate" my reading preferences. I once forced myself to read a V. S. Naipaul - a book so unmemorable that I have forgotten its name. Other brushes with "literature" (namely, Nathaniel Hawthorne's 'The House of Seven Gables' and Daphne du Maurier's 'Rebecca' and 'The Scapegoat' ) were not so bad. I wouldn't rave about these books, because at the end, I was left oddly unsettled, melancholy even. Then again, to be great, art should evoke some emotion in the recipient, even if the emotion is less than positive.

Therein, I suppose, lies one of the reasons I continue to stand by romance novels. Who couldn't help but feel positive after a happy ending? But why I am truly thankful to romance novels, is for all the interesting snippets of information I've gained over the years: food habits, social practices, arts, languages, geographical & historical facts......worlds now and past have been opened for me.

However, what led to this post is something I read last night in a historical romance. One of the characters quoted a couplet that quite literally, made my heart jolt.

"All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good.
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, 'Whatever is, is right.'"

The source? Essay on Man (Epistle 1) by Alexander Pope. I would never have read Pope's work just based on the fact that he's one of the greats (in fact, I once began reading Rape of the Lock, but didn't feel compelled to continue), but this, this was just divine and I had to read it all. So, my sincere thanks to Martine Berne (author of the historical romance) for including these lines, and to that supreme, unseen force that directed me to this book.

My Floral Inspiration

This post was inspired by a comment left on another Bombay-lover's Bombay musings. The comment author was not a Bombay fan because s/he believed Bal Thackeray to be the city's biggest icon. S/he is of course entitled to her / his opinion, but I beg to differ. My instant reaction was yeah Mr. T is one of the city's icons, but is he the only one? Definitely not.

So who or what are the city's icons? Are they only the rich and famous, or the rich and infamous? Only the most popular places and things? Of course, all of these are iconic, but they're not the only ones. An icon could be any symbol, any person that represents a significant meaning to someone. S/he or it need not be well-known, need not be known to anyone other than you for that matter, but it could still mean a helluva lot to you....still convey something that maybe only you understand.

For me, there is one image that I remember very vividly. Its one of those things that I’d seen daily while traveling in the train but never paid attention to. Yet on that one particular day as I looked out at the same old scene zipping by, this image just stood out – a patch of flowers growing tall amid sewage. Tall stems and bright red and yellow blooms. You see them growing all over, even in gardens. I was just struck by their beauty and how glorious they looked, despite being surrounded by so much filth.

A lot of people talk about Bombay’s stark contrasts, which are of course undisputable. To me, those flowers represent that contrast – that you can have goodness, beauty and growth no matter how terrible your situation or your surroundings. More than being iconic, for me they are inspirational.

The Pursuit of Happyness

Saw this amazing movie based on the true story of an even more amazing person. God, it really drives home the point of how grit and determination to 'pursue' your dreams can totally transform your life. Of course, the path is never easy. In the case of Chris Gardner, the protagonist, it is a road that seemed impassable at times. The most heart-wrenching moment is when a homeless Chris spends the night sitting in a subway men's room, with his son sleeping on his lap; someone keeps banging on the door wanting to use the facility, but his son needs the rest, so he braces a foot against the door and covers his son's ears to block out the noise, tears streaming down his face.

Even if this were fictional, it would have been tremendously moving. But to know that somebody actually underwent this struggle..... it opened my eyes for a much needed introspection....

Apocalypt-oh!

You know how sometimes you're emotionally blackmailed into doing something you don't really want to, but you give in just to see the other person happy? That's how I ended up going to watch Apocalypto on one of the last days of 2006. Watching the trailer earlier, I was interested in the story, and being directed by Mel Gibson, I knew it would be worth it. But the sight of the pierced-and-painted cast disturbed me - I wasn't sure I could sit through the whole movie. Still, accomodating and generous soul that I am :), I went along.

And I'm so glad that I did. Not only was it one of the best movies I've ever seen (the underwater birth and the scene where the blood spurts after the hero strikes the sadistic guy had me gasping in shock!), but it had a message that has become my personal mantra. It was when the hero's father tells him not to be afraid - that fear taints the heart and leads to downfall. For me, 2006 was a year that brought the biggest changes in my life and the pessimist in me taking over. I'm not a natural optimist; I've always had to consciously boost my positive side, but this time, I wasn't able to do that. I was wallowing; despite knowing it, I couldn't seem to fight off the gloom.

That movie got through though. That one sentence, one thought about not giving in to fear struck a chord. I'm quite conservative, wimpy even, most of the time - there's always been some sort of fear in my mind: fear of what others think of me, fear of failure, of embarrassment, of rejection, of the future. And I realise now that all these fears have, many times, kept me from doing things, experiencing things, I might have enjoyed.

So I tell myself now, everyday, to live each day and open up to whatever chances and opportunities come my way. I am not afraid.

Sweet!!!

There's been a frenzy of activity in my kitchen over the past few days....as there usually is this time of year. Our mix of Christmas sweets includes the best of the west & east. From cookies and toffees to laddoos and burfis, we've been making them all. But it's the desi ones that really fascinated me this time.

As I stood, relentlessly stirring one mix after another (and giving my right arm a helluva workout!), I started thinking about how these sweets evolved. The same basic ingredients in varying proportions, heated to different temperatures, stirred or beaten for different durations with varying strength, produce results so distinct in taste, texture and firmness. These aren't quick-fix, all-in-one-go recipes, but time-consuming and painstaking labours of love that call for a great deal of precision: heat it too fast or too long, beat it too less or too much and you have a disaster on your hands (as we learnt the hard way!!).

I've always been a sweet addict. I'd savour every bite, but I'd never thought about the process that creates these luscious sweets. Having expended considerable energy in that process this past week, I have a newfound respect for all sweet-makers. Hats off to all those countless people down the centuries who've experimented with the....chemistry, I suppose, of these sweets and helped further these delectable traditions.

LSD

As brand "me" enters the online matrimony market, my darling sis has given me a label - LSD - short for 'light social drinker'. One of the matrimony sites inquires about drinking preferences, so the folks and I checked the LSD option without giving it much thought, although mum had a feeling eyebrows would be raised among the extended family.

Raised eyebrows were the least of it. There were looonng debates across the continents. Tears were shed too. "Why should you mention such a thing when you're looking to get married???" Why not, we countered. I'm no party animal or a binge drinker, I said.....I indulge in one drink on a handful of occasions and I like trying out new cocktails. I appreciate a well-crafted drink and always stay within my limits. I see no shame in it whatsoever, and definitely, not something to hide from a prospective mate.

All our arguments don't seem to have achieved anything - they still believe that "such things" are unmentionable topics, especially for a girl. But the inbox flooded with mails expressing interest in me suggest otherwise. It's really mum who handles this, but I'd seen a few 'profiles'.....and then I started noticing something, which made me go through all the profiles. Only a handful had ticked the LSD option; all the 30-40 others were apparently 'non-drinkers'.

This shocked the hell out of me. One or two men may be teetotalers, but for so many to state that they don't drink just reeks of bullshit. And if they're all such puritans, why would they then contact a girl who 'drinks'? The hypocrisy in this just leaves me shaking my head. Why, in this day and age, is it so shameful to state that you drink? I'm not talking about bingeing or anything like that, but an occasional drink in the company of friends & family. If you behave responsibly, why can't you frankly acknowledge it? Do you think that saying you don't drink puts you on a higher moral plane? Why the pretense, especially on a forum where you're looking for a life partner? Isn't honesty in a relationship more important than keeping up so-called appearances?

Responsible Decisions

This is something I'll try and do regularly: post a brief about spectacular sermons. This evening the priest spoke about the decision to love and follow God. He said that many people follow God based on "feelings" - they're powerfully moved by something or the other and "feel" very strongly for God and so, they decide to follow Him. But what of tomorrow, or the next day, when that "feeling" may not be as strong? Therefore, the decision to follow God must be based in our very beliefs and convictions, and not in something as transient as a feeling. The decision to follow God calls for responsibility, which doesn't change according to our feelings.

He drew a wonderful, and apt, comparison with a parent or a spouse: you may feel great love towards your children or your partner today....but in the course of life, there are times when we get angry with the ones we love; our feelings are not necessarily affectionate all the time. Does that mean we leave them, or stop caring? No. We maintain these relationships, because at the heart of it, there's a conviction that this person belongs to us and that we're responsible for them all the time regardless of how we feel.

Oh Diya!

Today I spent my first Diwali in this country. Tried to recreate the festive spirit at home...lit plenty of diyas and candles. But though they totally make a place come alive with their glowing warmth, can't say it was really the same as what I've been used to all these years.

It isn't about the firecrackers, or how festive everything looks, or about the awesome sweets, or that you get a couple of days holiday. It's about the people. Now that I'm here in this strange new country, I realise how completely festivals are about the people in our lives. Family and friends meeting, sharing, laughing together. Even strangers acknowledging each other with a passing "Happy Diwali". Took all of it for granted when I had it. But no more.

So as I light still more diyas, I'll say a prayer for all the special people in my life and hope this season ushers in light and warmth in all our lives.

I penned these words years ago at a time when I was really low. In support of my new-found optimism, I'm posting them here...as a reminder to me.

"Trapped, enslaved, I want to break free.
There’s so much to do, so much to see.
But these shackles deny. Till I realise,
The only thing stopping me, is me."