Ho Ho Ho......

"I once bought my kids a set of batteries for Christmas with a note on it saying, toys not included."
- Bernard Manning

Earlier this week, I heard my husband opening the connecting door between the garage and our house and call out to the kids. The hushed excitement in his voice made me look up from my customary seat on the couch and crane my neck to see what he was holding in his hands. The kids swarmed to him and started jumping up and down looking at the long red package he had. My curiosity got the better of me and I too walked up to them just in time to see them rip open the package and spill the contents out. Lo behold, it was a Christmas Tree.

Christmas period has always been my favourite time of the year. At school, the end of half-term always coincided with Christmas holidays and despite the exams around that time, the school atmosphere was always festive and celebratory leading to the Christmas pageant. Besides in the Hindu culture that I was raised in, this month had a deep religious significance wherein most of the young girls in the neighbourhood would actively showcase our skills in Rangoli - the traditional decorative Indian art. So the month of December has always been associated with some great memories for me - Christmas carols, Nativity play, Rangoli, temples and holidays.

Christmas downunder
After I moved to Australia, Christmas season became even more magical - the Christmas window displays and the lights in the city and the neighbourhood during this season has never failed to infuse me with such pleasure. Of course, the sales everywhere drawing people to spend more money in retail therapy was an added bonus. Work also got more relaxed during Christmas time - it is indeed a sluggish period with very little work done for most office-goers as people generally wind down this time of the year or get pre-occupied planning their shopping-lists and holiday trips. And then comes the much anticipated Christmas party at work where without fail, more alcohol and less inhibition always keep the gossip mills churning the most embarrassing moments of certain office legends till the next party.

But despite the festivity in the air during this period, in all my thirteen years of living abroad, Christmas was more of a spectator event. The tradition of gift-giving and its significance was totally lost on my husband and me. Despite the entire city in celebrations, there were several of us belonging to different religions, different ethnicities, different countries unable to participate or fit completely into the festivities of the mainstream culture. In the end Christmas season just became a holiday period for us more than anything else.

After the kids were born, I used to indulge in getting gifts for them on Christmas Day so they do not feel isolated or left out, when they came home with stories of Santa and Christmas gifts. Eventually this too had kind of petered out. I occasionally used to feel twinges of guilt remembering my own delight in celebrating festivals back home while my kids here were growing up with not much knowledge of their own culture nor that of their inherited one. Despite attending Indian community gatherings and activities organised for the Indian festivals, there was something vital and organic missing while we celebrated festivals outside of our homes.

A new tradition??
So this year when my husband walked in with a Christmas tree which is a first in all these 13 years, I looked at him quite surprised at his gesture. Amidst the excited chatter and delightful shrieks, I feel a slight prickling of tears at the back of my eyes and with a catch in my voice, I ask him "why"? He smiles and replies that the kids asked for it which I knew was not the entire truth. This year my 5 yr old had taken part in a Christmas concert at his daycare and so Anna was subjected to a choir singing every night. Mugi's own lisped rendering of the Christmas carols strengthened by the sweetness of Madhu's voice and occasionally thrown out of whack by my own out-of-tune contribution must have touched a chord in him - the familial atmosphere gladdening his heart. After the ups and downs we have had as a family this year, the simple delight in singing songs of joy during the festive season has managed to bring a sense of normalcy into our lives and perhaps it was his token of gratitude to the kids. Whatever his reasons were, we were all thrilled to have a Christmas tree in the house. Ever since that night, the kids have been writing long lists to Santa though I seriously pity Santa having to read my 5 yr old's mirror style writing :)

It is Christmas Eve and as I maneuver amidst the frantic crowds that throng the shopping mall for their last minute Christmas shopping, I see a myriad of emotions on display. Of course the scenes aren't picture perfect - disgruntled parents, grizzly kids, frayed tempers, tired employees but still beneath all this, lies the unshakable festive spirit that would see them back into the welcoming arms of their families and friends the next day.

Every culture/religion has its own major festivals breaking the monotony of everyday life and encouraging people to exercise more humanity and generosity by traditions of gift-giving and celebrations. But I guess the festival gathers its life-force only when celebrated in whole and not in isolation. Perhaps I should take the kids home during a festival to get in touch with their own roots. In the meantime I cannot wait to see the kids rush to the Christmas tree tomorrow morning and rip open their packages that my husband and I had wrapped after they had gone to bed - merry Christmas to all :)

The God complex.......

"You know the only people who are always sure about the proper way to raise children? Those who’ve never had any."
--Bill Cosby, Fatherhood

Child of the 20th century !!!

I am a child of the 20th century......in our growing up years, most kids from my generation had a lot of things to be grateful for, especially the simple joys of childhood. Unlike the wired generation, our childhood days weren't influenced mightily by technology. We did not grow up with iPods or mobiles or the net, cocooning ourselves indoors with electronic entertainment. On the other hand, summer holidays usually saw us playing with the neighbouring kids on the streets - the usually deserted back streets filled with our raucous laughter and shrieks of delight. Even my usually over-protective parents never said no to the summer fever that usually gripped us once schools closed.

Usually during these jaunts when almost every single kid in the street used to be outdoors, I used to spy this little boy, several years younger than me, standing behind the wrought iron grill gates of his house, watching us with undisguised longing on his tiny face. Moved by the beseeching look on his face, some of us used to knock on his doors and request his parents to send him to play with us. His pleas even when coupled with our entreaties never made any difference, he was never allowed to play with us - the unruly and boisterous kids were considered to be a bad influence. Instead he was plied with more books and interesting toys and usually spent his holidays at his grandparents with hardly any kids around to break the monotony and loneliness of his childhood. The kid was very much under the thumb of his father - while some of us were experimenting in asserting our little rebellious self against our parents and building our quasi independent streaks, he grew up to be a very pliant and docile child.

Years later, with the wheels of time spinning faster than ever for some of us, we all went our separate paths. Most of us ended up moving overseas or working for huge IT companies away from home. As for me, I married and moved to Australia, placing several thousands of kilometers between me and home. Occasionally I used to hear tidbits about the kids I grew up with while I spoke with my mother or visited home. However, when my own trips back home became less and less frequent, the stories diminished too. I had completely lost track of this little boy(who apparently is no longer little), till recently, when my mother told me a few days ago, that he had flipped and lost his mind and was found to be a physical threat to his parents.

As I was sitting there digesting the news, dealing with the flashbacks my memory threw back at me, I could hear my mother rant about the misfortune of such a polite and well-mannered boy pushed to deteriorating mental health because of his domineering parents. I cocked an eyebrow at that talk - obviously my mother had forgotten her own role in molding my character :) Years ago I would have readily jumped to conclusions, willing to try any parent on the stand but today as a parent I force myself to see the two sides of the coin before I castigate any party.

The jury is still out on parents..........

Everyone seems to have an opinion of how others should raise their kids except for their own. It is easier to stand at the periphery and spout advices on how one needs to live or raise their kids, unfortunately what works for one does not necessarily work for another. Most parents live in dread of failure of their parenting skills; unfortunately we live in a world where every social problem is attributed to bad parenting - I guess I do not have to emphasize what huge albatrosses some of us have to carry around our necks, especially with both nature and nurture working against us. Some of my friends comment at times the projectiles coming out of their mouths and aimed at their kids eerily trigger feelings of deja vu......now why is that not surprising at all, after all some of us do emulate our own parents despite our best attempts !!!

Most parents strive to provide the best for their kids, some to the detriment of their own personal desires and aspirations, but yet not all of them are successful in raising good kids. My heart bleeds for my broken little friend who used to go around calling me sis - like the most delicious fruits subjected to worms, some of the sensitive and delicate minds are broken easily by complex phenomenons of this life; and yet at the same time my heart reaches out to those parents who are grappling with the aftermath of their parenting consequences and wondering where they had gone wrong. I know for a fact, that these hard-working and modest people have devoted their entire lives for raising their kids and yet somewhere along the way, by imposing their will on this kid, managed to unhinge him completely. No solace can be given to their grieving hearts; if parenting was a taught skill, these parents would have queued at the head of these lines with the sincere intention of giving their utmost best for their kid. Unfortunately it is not an art that can be learnt, most of us do it by trial and error keeping every single part of our body crossed hoping it works for us. While some are naturals at it, some struggle at it as being dropped in the deep end.

So am I preaching the tenets of parental catechism now??? I don't think so.......do I have any brilliant insights or answers to provide as part of this article; most likely not.........however what I would like to get across is despite our best intentions to do the best by our kids, we come under a lot of scrutiny and judgment. It is just not non-parents, but even other parents are quick to judge their peers because it is true, in some ways we have the capacity to make or break our kids. Perhaps we ought to take a step back, spend a few precious moments at this juncture and revisit our parenting styles and see if it works for the best towards our kids. Twenty years down the track, you do not want to be found guilty in the eyes of your kids.......or spend a life in remorse, waiting for that second chance that will never materialise.

If we insist on playing God with our kids, at least let us make sure it is a guiding and forgiving one .......rather than a judging or a denying God. Good luck !!!!

The 10 commandments of travel for women........

"When preparing to travel, lay out all your clothes and all your money. Then take half the clothes and twice the money." -- Susan Heller

I live in a small haven of beauty and harmony, right in the middle of nowhere which is perfectly fine if you want to get out of the rat race. But occasionally once in a while I do have to touch base with civilization and that's when it gets real tough. Driving 4-5 hrs to get to the nearest airport is definitely not how I would like to start my travel, but that's exactly what I have been forced to do lately.

If you are like me cosseted by male folks around you all your life ( I had a chauffeur for a push bike in one of my past lives), going away on a trip on your own may sound daunting even if it is just an over-nighter or an interstate one. I am now listing some bloopers that have caused me sufficient embarrassment and anxiety especially when travelling on a flight, and hoping that my words, even if they do not provide much insight, might at least bring a few giggles to my female counter-parts.

Thou shalt not commit the travel faux-pas
Unless you can carry off travelling with a broken travel case as the latest fashion in jet setting, check your travel case for broken handles or wheels. This check becomes mandatory especially if the last person to take the travel case was a male member of the family.

Thou shalt not assume the role of damsel in distress
Travelling light, especially when you are on your own is a sacred commandment to be heeded. Once you have packed your travel case, try lifting it above your heads, simulating stowing away the case on an overhead locker. If you are struggling, then it is your cue to remove those extra tops you have packed for an over-nighter. Mmm, is this because chivalry is slowing dying in this world….not likely, I would like to put my money’s worth on another plausible explanation…. most men are cautious and wary when offering their support as they do not want their actions to be misinterpreted as a sexist intention. Anyway why don’t we avoid further controversy and pack bags that we can carry?

Thou shalt heed the voice of the GPS
As the self-appointed navigator in the house, I still resist getting a GPS. A kind friend at work, worried that I was travelling alone, lent me her GPS. Now I had already done my home-work and knew the route I was taking – unfortunately the GPS and I were not seeing eye-to-eye on this front. As a result, I was constantly admonished and asked to throw myself on the railway track or do an about-turn in the middle of nowhere.

So if you are travelling with a GPS, throw away your inner compass and rely on the GPS to take you safely to your destination. Also if you are lead-footed like myself or just happen to drive a cop-magnet, it would help to pay heed to your GPS about speeding and camera alerts. You do not want your speeding tickets reaching home before you do, right?

Thou shalt use judgment for airport parking
For those travelling in your own car and struggling with the alien concept of parking, most airports make it even more confusing by providing short-term and long-term parking. Ensure you have picked the right parking lot as different prices are charged……believe me it takes the whole fun out of sale fares when you realise you have to pay double for parking.

Thou shalt not wear boots while travelling
I love my knee high boots, however being stopped and asked to remove them every single time I step through the airport detector, does not make them the perfect travelling companion. Especially when you are already late and rushing to catch your domestic flight, the last thing you want is to be stopped at customs and asked to remove your shoes. If you do share an umbilical cord relationship with your boots, at least make sure you have ones that you can remove and slide back on easily.

Thou shalt pick the front seats for domestic travel
If you are given the option of choosing your seats, opt for the ones in the front. Most domestic carriers flying out of small airports do not offer the flexibility of aero or jet bridges. Prepare yourself for the short walk on the tarmac and up the flight of stairs which is why it is preferable to choose a seat in the front of the flight rather than the back. You also won’t be subjected to the propeller or jet blast while embarking/disembarking from flights that still have their engines running.

That shalt learn to feed thy automobile
If are you anywhere like me getting your husband to fuel/clean/park the car whilst you just busy yourself with the only task of driving, it might help once in a while to learn how to fuel your car. This knowledge is vital especially when you notice that 20 or more cars have already passed you while you stand there, making a spectacle of yourself, battling with the pump and avoiding it getting jammed. Perhaps learning to read the fuel signs rather than going with just the nozzle colours might also help or else you would be spending a few extra dollars loading premium unleaded into your car.

Thou shalt travel with food, water and medicines
For those hitting the road for long hours after being on a flight, ensure that you load, if not yourself at least your car with sufficient water and food. Shelling out for medicine and food on the wayside convenience stores for more than what they are worth for would only exacerbate your headache. Besides stopping at these highway depots attracts unnecessary attention to yourself and the fact that you are travelling alone.

Thou shalt not covet your neighbour’s book
If you are like me who is incapable of staying still or falling asleep in a flight, then do remember to take some music or books with you especially when you are flying on those domestic flights where in-flight entertainment is not provided. Unless you have metaphysical powers or dabble in the darker arts and have mastered the act of coercing your neighbours to hand over their books or magazines to you, I would strongly advise you to travel with one.

Thou shalt be home-bound
Of course there is always this option available to you – weigh your alternatives while considering a travel and see if you can utilise technology, minimise travel and save yourself the hassle and costs associated with this.

That's it for now - feel free to add your own tips to this post. I am sure we will all benefit from a bit of free advice :)

It never rains but pours.......

"So for the mother's sake the child was dear,
And dearer was the mother for the child."

- Coleridge

She let the phone ring for some more time, worried that her mother might come rushing only to hear it stop ringing.

No answer at the other end.

Her thoughts moved uneasily to the last time she had spoken with her. When she had heard her hypochondriac mother sound sick, she had promised to call her the next day to check up on her. But the week had pounced on her with an agenda of its own and she never got around to make that call. Today the guilt came rushing back. She hung up the phone with an unease that she could not shrug off. Half an hour later, she called to be greeted by empty silence again. Her uneasiness went up a notch again, but she consoled herself that her mother must have gone out.

The next day she gave a call as soon as the time difference allowed her to. It was still early morning and she knew her mother should be at home to take her call. Still no answer at home. She then hastily went around looking for her mother's mobile number and kicked herself for not thinking about that the previous day. Just as she was almost about to hang up the call, she heard the faint tinny "hello" cut across the static. Was she imagining or did her mother sound feeble?

With full of trepidation and alarm, the words came rushing out.....

-"Where are you? I have been calling home since yesterday"

- "I am not at home."

-"Where are you then?"

The syllables hung heavily in the air.

- I have been at the hospital since mid-week".

Anger and guilt competed within her, momentarily robbing her of her speech.

-"Why did you not tell me?"

-"Well, I did not want to alarm you."

She shook her head at the disbelief flooding through her. Her mother had not called her. She had not let her know that she was hospitalized in some misplaced sense of protecting her offspring.

She emptied her head of conflicting thoughts and brought her attention to the matter at hand and hastily inquired about her mother's health. As she heard her mother recount the days leading up to her hospitalization, she was slowly eaten by the helplessness of the situation. All those sleepless nights that her mother spent nursing her through every single childhood ailment of hers and yet today her mother was on her own relying on the generosity and benevolence of her neighbours and friends. Even though her mother had now recovered enough to be discharged from the hospital soon, what if the scenario repeats again?

This is pretty much the situation with most expatriates who have family behind and thousands of miles between them......every son and daughter's nightmare that they might not be there for their parents when the need arises. In her case, she did not even have siblings or extended family to take care of her mother. The choices she had made with her kids in mind has robbed her mother of her own daughter. Uprooting her mother from her zone of comfort had not worked before - even before her visa period had run out, her mother was itching to go back home to her own familiar surroundings. Her mind raced to the alternatives that could be considered, but each option sounded temporary and less hopeful to her tired self.

Is it not true, when it rains, it always pours........yet another situation to deal with, she hoped she would find the endurance to survive the latest development. Any semblance at normalcy seems to rush out of the window lately. She promised her mother she would call the next day and with a heavy heart, hung up her phone. She knew she would make that call.......never again would she push it to the back burner.......the umbilical cord relationship still reigns the supreme in the end.

Blues of Life.....

Most of the shadows of this life are caused by standing in our own sunshine.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

We decided to go on a drive over the weekend – a journey with no specific destination or agenda. Travelling on a route not taken before, we soon drove past small sleepy towns on the way. Just minutes into the drive, the bickering in the backseat soon died and pretty soon, the kids were fast asleep. Acres and acres of farmland stretched out by the road – especially with the canola flowers in bloom, most of these farms were so eye-catching with their yellow hues. The habitually dry and brown Aussie vegetation that peppered the scenery around this region, also seemed to have acquired a subtle and un-jarring beauty with the recent rains. The smooth grassy knolls were speckled with grazing sheep, its scenic beauty more resplendent in the golden sunlight. The land spoke of a harmony that was a soothing salve to an agitated mind searching some kind of repose.

If only some of us are capable of transferring this drive's tranquility to our biggest journey that we call life? Notwithstanding the fragility of lives and occasionally the brevity, we tend to cram our lives with disputes, ego issues, pettiness, antagonism, possessiveness, territorial atavism - the list continues. Knowing fully well that we never get out of it alive, we not only take life too seriously, but pitt our limited defenses, against all odds of swimming against the tide and in the end, exhaust ourselves of life's immense possibilities.

However, each one of us is unique - not just in our traits and behaviour but also when it comes to dealing with life's disappointments. There are some who, in doggedly following the fatalistic truth that all things are inevitably predetermined, exude a stoicism in the face of adversity that is greatly enviable. The hedonistic few, with escapism as their sole mantra, diligently immerse themselves in newer pursuits, carefully placing a gulf of distance between themselves and anything that reeks of guilt. However there is another lot, suffering from self-blame and an internal locus of control, that stay mired in the past, gazing at closed doors and broken dreams, unable to break out of the circle of their disappointments. Like Lot's wife, given their tenacious hold on the past, they get transformed into pillars of nothingness - exchanging their present for wispy memories of the past.

Tenacity is what's under discussion today - speaking of which, usually within minutes of coming into contact with me, people describe this quality as a commendable trait of mine. Unflattering images of an unyielding rottweiler is what used to strike me first, however lately I have learnt to populate my mind with the more appealing likes of the acorn-obsessed sabre-toothed squirrel Scrat, my Ice-age peer. Ah well I am digressing.....anyway what I would like to talk about is how this very quality may become somebody's rue.

This otherwise Samsonian trait can become debilitating in circumstances hindering people to move on, where every cell of their physiological and psychological make-up cries to them to hold on to the very situation that no longer works for them. Their very tendency to see things to closure might leave them conducting post-mortem analysis and bogged down in the quagmire of the past. By lacking the walk-away power, do they lose their objectivity or is it vice-versa, well maybe we are talking about a "chicken and egg" paradox here!!! Their inability to segue into changing circumstances only signals the slow demise of any kind of control they might have over their lives. Besides their very fugue like state might not be off any consolation to the crowds cheering on the sidelines.

What do we have to say to such people who, if I may borrow a phrase from a smart acquaintance of mine, refuse to stop picking at the threads of the material of the past? Well, if I know the answers to such million dollar questions, I would be minting money from copies of self-therapy books sold instead of slaving over a blog that hardly anyone reads :)

However for those out there who find living a struggle with the challenges that life throws your way and slide into depression as a result of broken dreams and broken relationships, there are souls who empathize with you, but still it is in your hands to take the first steps towards recovery. When you choose not to take your eyes off lost opportunities and unresolved issues, you miss the small slivers of silver lining that comes your way. Beat the blues, discover the courage to say "I can change" - learn to give up on people who gave up on you, on situations that leech your strength - after all the ones who matter are still there for you, patiently waiting for you to turn that corner. Mental illness is no longer a stigma in the society - described routinely as an epidemic, it is racing neck to neck with other debilitating diseases in human history. Support is available for those who need it - recognise the signs, look around and reach out for help.

Your battles against crippling depression might not be written in history, your battle scars might not win you accolades or medals for bravery, but to those around you - especially your near and dear ones, you matter and your life does. Do not let the black hound of depression and melancholia steal your life and cut short your lifeline prematurely; instead use your God-given strength of tenacity to work to your benefit - cling onto positive thoughts - after all happiness is an attitude of mind that can be practiced and learnt.

- Dedicated to the millions out there battling the blues of life everyday - your silent pleas of help are being heard !!! If anyone out there reading this blog comes across a person suffering from depression, take it upon yourself to give them a helping hand - a small selfless act of kindness on your part can do wonders in people's lives. Who knows you might have given them a new lease on life?

Something smells fishy.......

"We are just two lost souls, swimming in a fish bowl....."

- Pink Floyd

A few weeks ago, we welcomed our latest addition to the family. Usually people start by raising plants, then pets before they try their hands at parenting. We have just gone in the opposite direction......having had kids and seeing them none the worse for wear given our parenting skills; we decided to experiment with pets. Before I swelter under the scorching gaze of any of my RSPCA buddies, let me clarify my words. What I meant is our resolution at having no pets at home wavered a little around my girl's eighth birthday; we finally gave in and decided to get her a fish. I also had an evil plan up my sleeves – was planning to use the pet to lure her out of the hazy trances that she slips into under the influence of the TV.

Well, for those out there thinking along the same lines as me that fishes are low maintenance pets, ha ha.......please be prepared for a real eye-opener. I believed getting a fish bowl and a fish would do the job, sadly no......given the expenses I incurred, I might have instead fed the family on fish and chips for the whole month!!! Having had the brainwave strike at me whilst I was away at Melbourne, the poor pet had to survive 4 hours of grueling journey......on a scale of 1-10, both Mr. Red (you don’t need a high IQ score to figure out why he was named that) and I could have marked our experiences as extremely traumatic – especially with me not wanting the poor little fish and my dollars going down the drain.

When Mr. Red finally arrived at his new home, the kids were pretty excited at seeing the newcomer. However I should have known better given their short attention span with any new toy. When the fish and I were soon left staring at each other bereft of other company, the truth hit home.......now I have got an extra mouth to feed and to look after, thanks to the weakening of my resolve. Every morning when I walked in to check the fish bowl, I was worried I might be greeted by an upended Mr. Red. In fish lingo, that’s definitely a no-no…. definitely not the sign for a good day – and it spelt disaster in my world too. You don’t want a dead pet on your hands; try explaining it to a jury of my kids….I would rather face the children of the corn.

However I could not get rid of this definite vibe that there was something wrong with Mr.Red. Maybe I was imagining things, usually given my nerves and paranoia, it is no surprise……however extrapolating my neurotic fears to include shrinking fishes was a first even for me!!!! I seriously thought one day I was going to announce to the kids “Brats, I have shrunk the fish”…….every day I felt he was getting smaller and smaller. It is a syndrome that my family usually suffers at the expense of my culinary skills, but hey the fish wasn’t even sampling my wares and yet, I thought he was rapidly shrinking. And above all, he was getting lethargic as well and hardly swam. I was convinced that Mr.Red was experiencing the blues however I was told that fishes have short term memory…….mmm, despite the studies done on goldfish contradicting this theory, I readily lapped it up to ease my guilt. I obviously did not want him to remember any trauma that I might have unintentionally caused – though I am sure having me staring at him with baleful eyes ( assuming that glass distorts Mr.Red’s perceptions) every time I pass by him must have been really stressful for him.

Finally, a friend at work recommended getting a heater even though he wasn’t a tropical fish – not the friend, Mr. Red I mean……..so there came in another expense. Guess we must have been the only people to buy a tank heater for a fish bowl……and however ridiculous the heater looked jutting out of the bowl, the fish looked happy. He was back to his endless circles………yeah definitely easing a few of the worry creases from my face.

So it has been six weeks since the fish arrived home – I still wonder how he managed to survive this long given our care (or more so the lack of it). I have always been a person with an unbridled enthusiasm for aquariums – watching the fishes have always soothed me; however the enjoyment ratio with this little one is not quite the same – it is quite depressing watching him go around and around listlessly. But still no regrets, the kids are happy and they do remember to feed him always and also occasionally talk to him, contrary to my original assumptions.

Guess that’s all matters in the end.......worrying and carrying about another life, no matter how insignificant it might be or the least fitting into the matrix of your own personal needs. I am at times astounded by the ignominy of the treatment people show their counterparts in today’s world – they label their prejudice , bigotry, lack of empathy or simply bad manners under a lot of headings – religion, culture, race, ethnicity, skin-colour, language, busy life-style and so on. We cannot right all the wrongs in the world in one go, but perhaps we can leave a legacy behind through our own kids by teaching them to practice humanity at any cost. Perhaps this is where pets can be of some real help as well…..they can teach kids to be sensitive and attuned to needs that are not voiced explicitly. I am perhaps overstretching (no doubts there !!!) - from pets this blog has gone to help provide triage for human problems out there........and I have been chastised only recently not to let the blog wander,, but hey, I have got the memory of a fish :) Anyway every journey starts with a few steps.

Happy Trails!!!

I have a choice, don't I??

“It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

- J.K.R

-"Why have you not had your lunch fully?"

My voice comes out a wee stricter than I intended to.....empty lunch-boxes from school are the house rules, I did not like to see them broken.

-"I had very little time to eat because I wanted to go and see the talentquest......"

Her voice floated to me from her own world of self-absorption :)

-"Ha, are you taking part in the talentquest?"

-"Nope"

This time she sounded as if she was coming back to earth and was preparing herself for the landing......in her case a showdown with her mum.

-"Why not?"

-"I don't like to."

I could sense the slight sulkiness creeping into her voice and wondered what was she so defensive about?

-"You do know mummy likes you to take part in such activities."

-"Yeah I know you do, but I have a choice, don't I?"

Bent at the sink washing dishes, my head reared back so quickly that I believed I might have suffered a whiplash from it. Mind you this is not a girl in her teens, she is just 8 years old....technically speaking she's still got a week left for her 8th birthday. She's also not someone who is by nature a rebellious or a tantrum-throwing kid, her brother steals the limelight on that one. I wipe my hands unable to continue with the chore of washing dishes and turn and look at her. I see her, resolutely refusing to look at me but instead continuing to be immersed in my almost empty address book on the kitchen counter.

I look at my girl who has always been the apple of my eye, my sole reason that has kept me persevering even on days when the going gets tough and I have been tempted to throw in the towel. I come from a culture where parents have been the sole architect of their kids lives, designing by trial and error in most cases and always ensuring that the kids do not get to repeat the mistakes of their own childhood. They also strived beyond their ordinary means and capabilities to provide the opportunities for their children to do the things they aspired to but never had the luxury or means to do it. It was like the parents lived their own childhoods through their kids a second time, savouring their kids victories and counting their accomplishments and achievements as their own.

As a child I have always given in to my parents wishes and demands and that continues in most cases even today. Sometimes I do think ruefully, that my umbilical cord connections are too strong to be severed despite the distance or my years :) It still continues in several eastern cultures - the supremacy of the parents over the lives of their children - be it the kids in question are intelligent, mature or old enough to make decision for themselves. The children, in turn, willingly succumb to this parental pressure, given that this is how the society and the culture that they have been raised in expect of them.

So what happens when expatriate parents try to impose their own upbringing and cultural values on their kids? For one, they are sure to experience whiplash injuries given my own experience :) On a serious note, my daughter's stand in refusing to do something that she was not interested in was her first step towards displaying her own assertiveness. Do I marvel at this streak of independence in her, appreciate her refusal to do something to merely please her parents or do I put my foot down and exercise my primal authority of parenthood?

I recall an incident where she had invited me to a parents & grandparents day at school to see her activities and I remember telling her I was not so comfortable coming to her class. She took a minute to reply and her exact words were "I will be very happy if you turn up. But if you are not happy about coming there, you don't have to come. I will understand. I will want you to do it only if it makes you happy". Her words then had made me laugh....especially out of amazement seeing that I had spawned such a mature soul. Of course I turned up at her school and was touched by her sheer delightful response to my presence.

But today those very words of hers was my own harsh wakeup call to parenthood reality - my little girl clearly knew her boundaries even when it came to making requests of her own parents. She knew despite her tender age that she has to take the other person's preferences into account when it comes to making demands of their time, emotions or benevolence.

How easily we impose our own desires, our own wants and needs, prejudices and opinions on people in the name of love or relationship? We expect the people, especially the ones that we claim as the closest and those we would readily lay down our lives for, to toe our lines. We make them the sacrificial goats in the name of our very love. We end up leaving them burdened by their obligations to us, and kids especially are exposed to these chains of love at quite an early age. Our intentions towards shaping their lives might be good, but at what cost? Would she ever apply her mind in learning a new skill or talent if she is being forced to? I remember those days of dancing lessons that I had attended merely to satisfy my dad and here I am regressing easily into the same flaws of parenthood.

I go near her, turn her to face me and get her to meet my eyes - I explain patiently to her that it is a good opportunity for her to learn something by taking part in the talent quest. I remind her how much she loves to sing and dance and such events might give her the opportunity to do it. She then confides that she is not entirely comfortable in performing on a stage, even though she had wanted to take part in it. I tell her to give it some time and it will come to her naturally. She looks at me with renewed confidence in her own abilities and promises to give it a go next term as the selections are already over. We hug each other and give big smiles, happy that we both have learnt something valuable and significant from each other today.

I know this is just the start of what is going to come in the future years - my hands are going to be full in rearing a child who knows exactly what she wants for herself. A part of me is proud that she would never allow herself to become anybody's doormat, but a part of me sighs at the turbulent years waiting ahead of both of us. I hope and pray that I will always be able to find the strength within myself to shape this girl's life without breaking her or her dreams. And as a parent, I know that this is the best gift I can give her..........her wings to fly in the right direction without ever having to clip them :)

Out of your shells please..........

"What immigrants feel immediately is isolation."

- Cecilia Johnson

Last week I had attended an event on women in leadership roles. It was a gratifying evening where I got to meet several interesting and successful women. It is not everyday you come across a 33 year old CEO of a hospital in person detailing her inspirational success story or get to meet women making their headway in politics and in the local councils. As a panel member in a leadership discussion forum, I also got to practice my public speaking skills while conveying my two cents worth on leadership. Though not at my best owing to a dip in my body temperature leaving me shivering and with chattering teeth ( I rather blame it on the air-conditioning vent right above me and not my nerves), my five minutes of the limelight still helped me break the ice with most women in the room and I happened to make some great acquaintances that night.

Once the room was filled, I surveyed the members gathered there and felt a slight disappointment in seeing very few non-Caucasian women in the gathering. In fact there were just a handful of Aboriginal Australian women and only one other Asian women in the crowd. This is a community with a growing migrant population and yet there were hardly any non-Caucasian women in an event representative of budding/recognised female leaders. Well, once the initial surprise died down, my thoughts, though spinning in circles first, later chalked this (in)significant absence to certain prevalent factors.

I tried to recall the initial days after I had migrated to Australia. On day three after landing, I visited Byron Bay, a beautiful beach in New South Wales. Perhaps not the right way to get acquainted with a new country and new culture :) I was the most overdressed person on the beach, talk about culture shock !!! I remember being a shy, frightened, young woman who was intimidated by most things around me - electric trains with automatic doors, ATM cards, getting on public transport, picking up the phone, the Aussie accent..... and so the list continued :) But yet that day, I stood before a gathering of 100 women and still remembered to breathe. I have come a long way but the journey has been an arduous one, despite being memorable at times.

Walking down the memory lane, I realised that before most migrant women can dream of leadership roles, there are some hurdles or rather social barriers one needs to cross. As a first step these women need to be accepted as an equal at the workplace or within the community. In most cases, I have been quite lucky in that aspect. I have had wonderful friends who have welcomed me with open arms despite my ethnicity and foreignness. However I have noticed in certain instances that the first impression that people have of me before I open my mouth is that perhaps I am not capable of stringing words together to form a coherent sentence. Stereotyping, labelling, marginalisation is inherent in any community/workplace, but I believe this is more out of misunderstanding and unawareness than of racism or discrimination. Most migrants irrespective of gender face this issue, with the women perhaps getting a more raw deal given that they take their own time to settle down in a new country.

I have to say from personal experience, life is not easy for migrants in a new country, especially for women. You are not only uprooted from your comfort zone but in most cases you are placed into an entirely new culture. The dislocation - the swinging to and fro between two cultures creates a lot of havoc and chaos. Life becomes a series of compromises and adjustments, with women losing their identities in most cases. The people or social skills that had worked for these women back in their own country perhaps no longer work in the new settings. As a result these women retract into their shells, diffidence becoming a major barrier.

Another common issue that I have noticed among most migrants - I am not entirely sure if this applies to women as well, is that they stick together without assimilating into the mainstream community or into the workplace , creating small ethnic "pockets". Even though this provides a temporary solace for them wherein they are familiar and comfortable with the world that they create, in the long run, it isolates and alienates them.

There is no quick fix for these issues – it takes a lot of awareness, learning and understanding from both sides of the fence. Something else that I would advocate is empathy from both sides. Migrant women need to understand their very strangeness, foreignness can be intimidating to others – can pose issues as people are not aware of how to approach them or include them; they have to learn to integrate themselves into the workplace and at the same time not lose their identity. It is not easy as it sounds as most of us tend to seek validation through other people's eyes - it is easy to lose perspective of your own worth.

I have been extremely lucky in meeting some lovely women in this small community who have been very welcoming and extremely gracious in putting several opportunities my way in helping me integrate into the community and move towards leadership roles. I sincerely hope other migrant women in the community receive the same kind of support to bring them out of their protective shells, as these shells merely turn into hindering barriers in the long run.

I am totally confident that the results will be amazing – the richness that migrant women can bring into the society when given a chance to blossom is totally mind-blowing:) Won't you agree with me??

When matrimony ends in acrimony........

“All marriages are happy. It's the living together afterward that causes all the trouble.”

-Raymond Hull

If Life is a box of chocolates, I would like to know what marriage is. Perhaps this is the candy with the most eye-catching wrapping, HOWEVER, it comes with a disclaimer "TASTE AT YOUR PERIL". But (un)fortunately for us, most of us are not in the habit of reading the small print :) Coincidentally, this post comes just within days of my wedding anniversary. I swear it has nothing to do with the wry comment from a friend at work "you get less sentence for murder" when he heard the number of years that I had been married or the "deer in headlights" look I get to see in my poor hubby's eyes lately.

But seriously, this post was triggered by a conversation that I happened to overhear last week. I was placed in a position where I could not walk away but what I heard made me ruminate a lot about relationships and especially marriage. I gathered that the words were from someone who is in the throes of a marriage breakdown or perhaps experiencing the aftermath of it. Despite the words uttered in a casual tone, the hurt and pain that seeped through them were quite obvious even to a stranger....I was even able to discern the disbelief that embodied her words as if she was making a silent plea "how could this be happening to me"?

Sacrifices are made at the altar and sometimes it is true of the marriage altar too. Who knows what dreams are being compromised but yet when two individuals partake in a lifetime commitment, neither of them enter into it, expecting the relationship to be doomed or the bonds to break. But eventually as invasive weeds creep into an untended garden, some of these alliances come apart at the seams. What starts as mere annoyance or mild irritation mutates overnight into a sundering breach of relations and very soon there is a wide chasm that leaves the couple adrift in the matrimonial sea of differences. When I see this matrimonial rupture, instead of the much anticipated rapture that the couple must have dreamt of at the altar, it definitely makes you ponder of the brevity or perhaps the fragility of relationships.

For those blessed enough to stand within the sheltered confines of blissful matrimony or harmonious relationships, it is not easy to comprehend the vitriol and bitterness that the estranged partners spew at one another or the traumatic, acrimonious divorces that they undergo(or get subjected to). It only gets messier where kids are involved, especially when one of the parents starts treating them as mere transferable assets or at times as financial liabilities given that the relationship has soured beyond repair with the ex-spouse/mate. There is no more room for the shared past, as one friend puts it rather bluntly, no nostalgia for the spectral ghosts from the past as the people in the relationship have outgrown their need for each other.

Perhaps there is some comfort when the couple mutually separate despite the bitterness of the situation; however there are cases when the separation is forced upon one of the partners and in addition to the shock and grief one experiences at the split, the person is also subjected to the growing apathy from the other end. I am sure Dr. Kotarac would have been happier with her name in the papers for anything other than being found very dead and decomposing in her "on again, off again" lover's chimney. How can people put their ex-partners/spouses in such demeaning and mortifyingly (literally in this case) humiliating situations? It makes you seriously wonder how do they get to a stage where one no longer awards the other the commonplace courtesy that one bestows on a stranger.

This is what my gripe is about - how do people easily forget the memories they have shared, how do they let such animosity and hatred blind their eyes, calcify their heart and turn against each other? I am told that years of anger, resentment, hurting, disappointment and such negative feelings can chip away the foundation rock of a relationship and then there is nothing left to anchor the unmoored subjects who end up as human flotsum in the sea of humanity.

Well, I have spoken of the ones who vent their anger one way or the other and break free of their yoke when the marriage sours - however I have seen cultures where partners put up with their incompatible spouses and live their life either in denial or in total acceptance of their situation for the sake of their kids and perhaps the society as well. It is sad to see such lives drifting by - however the stoicism that they portray as they endure their roller-coaster ride is truly admirable.

I am definitely not the person to talk of successful relationships but I have been blessed with people around me who have the grace and fortitude to accept me as the person I am. But yet this post is a harsh reminder of what might go wrong in a relationship if it is not nurtured properly.

Dedicated to my husband - the only constant in a life full of variables :)

Last night I dreamt of.....

"I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
- W B Yeats

Not Manderley for sure, I will leave that to Mrs. De Winter :)

I had gone to the movies on Sunday with a friend of mine. Never a big fan of DiCaprio even while the Titanic was afloat, I still wanted to catch "Inception" at the cinemas. Despite a terrible cold and a nagging headache, I was quite keyed up the whole day awaiting the "me" time.

However, having long since departed from my days of watching Bollywood movies, nothing had prepared me for the looooong 2 1/2 hours of this over-hyped and much awaited movie. I was quite disappointed with the movie and at times, my patience was running quite low that I was quite provoked to give the much needed kick the cast needed to get out of their maze of dreams. Of course, this is the kind of movie that would either be critically acclaimed as a masterpiece or considered to be a downright disappointment. Sadly, despite the stellar cast (I do luv the Juno kid) and visibly stunning special effects, the movie did not do much for me........it did get awfully boring towards the end and I wished I had a remote so I could get to the part where the credits start rolling :) In the end when we stepped out of the cinema-hall in a stupor with our grey-cells almost fried, we too needed a totem to remind us if we were in reality or still in a dream.

However I digress, my post is not about the movie itself, but just the concept of dreams. I am one of those people who does not have a restful sleep. Given my restless nature or a disposition easily reactive to stimuli, I have very vivid and colourful dreams which would more likely fit the label of nightmares than actual dreams. Despite having seen 3 1/2 decades, I totally freak out on sleeping on my own. My family and close circle of friends are well aware of my nocturnal episodes. I had a trying time especially when I was away on my own......I used to try everything suggested to ward off bad dreams.......rosary, pair of scissors, a copy of the shroud of Turin, even sleeping with the light on. Sadly nothing helped. I used to wake up in shivers or keening and sometimes suffering from bad episodes of sleep paralysis......occasionally my dreams have served me as premonitions of bad tidings as well. In the end I reverted my sleep cycle turning nights into days and catching up with my much needed sleep during the day.

So technically, I should be afraid of dreams by now !!! No, this is where "Inception" despite not being warmly received by me, struck a chord in me. What are we without our dreams? Why does reality pale in significance beside our dreams? Are dreams merely the incessant and meaningless chatter of our subconscious and if so, why do we still long for the faraway world of dreams?

Imagine stuck in a harsh reality with no exit signs highlighting your way out !!! What if the monotony of life painted in shades of black or sombre grey leaches the breath out of you and all you have within you is your capacity to dream. Would not the world of dreams then become the sanctuary offering total refuge, the only oasis of solace and comfort in the arid desert of existence? Perhaps the parched soul takes its sip of life-giving water to continue on its meaningless journey!!! Perhaps this is the parallel world where flimsy and broken castles of reality morphs into sturdy structures, where forgotten faces from the past are thrown into sharp relief, where broken relationships are mended anew without traces of fracture, where perfidy is forgiven with grace and compassion, where ablutions are conceded without judgement, where broken souls become whole, where utopia is the natural state..........maybe reality in this dimension is nothing but a bad dream :) For those living other people's dreams, this world becomes the only place to live their own dreams. Once the dream is over and you wake up blinded by the rays of harsh reality, the only thing that keeps you going, is your hope that someday your dreams might become your reality.

However I rush in to put a disclaimer ( read the small print folks), this post does not sanction any rights to you to throw away your reality in a haze of dreams :) Guess it is time I cut short my rambling discourse and hasten to the world of dreams :)