This is my family ! (post inspired by my children's' home work project last week)

This is Ruhi, who will turn seven this November. Ruhi suffers from many happy delusions. For instance she sincerely believes she is a Gobsmacking beauty. Therefore she lives up to that role by dressing up in festive finery, even when she goes to the park. She is often spotted on top of the rickety DDA park slide with her shiny 'Gharara' pulled above her bony knees and christmas trinkets hanging from various points on her head.

She also thinks she is not thin enough and digs wearing clothes that can make her look even thinner, when she is not wearing festive finery. I call her my "boo boo sticks, pointy bums' ! She thinks it a a compliment !

A born activist, she wants to save the planet, the poor and the old to begin with. In crowded malls and cinema halls she has the spooky quality of spotting senior most citizens and make pretty eyes at them. Upon getting a hint of any response she will shyly fold hands in a greeting, resulting in a great deal of affectionate reciprocal activity. Ruhi wants to be a 'household help' when she grows up ! Since she thinks Kirti 'didi', the girl who works with us, has a really cool job to do ! Cook, clean and watch TV and no going to office ( the dirty word for her) and no homework either !!!

This is three year old Rayyan Wasi, who likes to be addressed by his full name. Rayyan Wasi adopted a tattered blue 'Jaipuri Razai' when he was one year old and the two have since been inseparable. The 'Razai' goes to cinema halls, vacations, school, weddings, birthday parties and the mall, which is his most favourite place. Rayyan Wasi is a potential TV channel Talent Show aspirant. He poses and sings on a toy mike with his Razai wrapped around his neck. He also plays on a small cartoon network guitar, a "tabla" set and a tiny 'dholak' that is his most recent musical acquisition. Whenever he can lay hands on it, he also plays upon my precious harmonica. His father is convinced down to every bone in his body that Rayyan Wasi will be a talented singer / musician when he grows up. I hope and pray that Rayyan eventually does not break his father's heart ! 

Rayyan & the Blue 'Razai' !
Rayyan's other passion is cars. He has accumulated several by various means - gifts from doting relatives, gifts from me and his dad, shameless blackmail in Malls, shameless anarchy during visits to Gurtej & Kabir's homes ( his 8 year old male cousins). When he is not singing, playing on his musical contraptions or sucking on to the dirty blue blanket, Rayyan Wasi runs his battery of cars on my bed, from one corner to the other while giving a running commentary about an imaginary traffic situation.

This is my husband. He is always, always, always the man on the phone. When not on the phone, he is generous, soft spoken, sentimental, kind and funny. Hates airplanes, lifts, cinema halls, malls, vacations, hills, the sea, parking lots and being alone at home. And like Ruhi, he suffers from many happy delusions. He thinks he is the world's greatest musician, perfumer, cook, husband, father, son, brother, friend, designer, movie editor, driver...etc etc etc . He would have been insufferable if he hadn't been so vulnerable and naive. He leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor, he is more messy than the kids are, he drives me nuts. 

But he also lets me win every fight and spoils me silly, more than he spoils the children. Naaaaaaaaaaaaah ! I am not going to make this a 'senti' post. That one is for later.

Everyone's children are the same.

A bengali woman started working as part time help in my house recently. She is as bad as they come, dishonest, unreliable, lazy, incompetent and I wonder why we have her at all. The last time I told her that it was not working out she almost fell at my feet and she really does seem very needy so the story goes on. Anyway, four days ago she got her 3 months old daughter along to our house. Her husband had hit the child so she could not bear to leave her alone with him.

I peered at the dark, malnourished kid. She seemed reasonably clean but very weak. I made her lie down in the drawing room under the fan on a small padded mattress that Ruhi uses for her dolls, carefully covering it with a plastic sheet and a piece of cloth. She lay there happily gurgling while her mother went about her chores. No one except me and the other girl who helps me run my house, came near the child.

Before leaving, the woman left Ruhi's small mattress in her room and put the cloth away for washing. Nothing of great consequence till I realised that my mother in law was greatly upset with what had happened. That I had made 'that' kid lie on Ruhi's toy mattress.

I have a pact of silence to all things disagreeable within my rather volatile joint family. So I quietly went about collecting my things to leave for our weekend getaway. When she became particularly nasty, I softly told her " sabke bachche ek jaise hote hain" (everyone's children are the same). She did not say anything to that.

Half way through our road trip, I got a call from my father in law. He is nearly ninety, and always graceful. He sounded livid with me. He said his wife had told him that I let an infected, dying child lie down on my daughter's mattress. I asked him how he had arrived at that conclusion. He said the diagnosis was based on my mother in law noticing from farthest way that the child's limbs were rather thin compared to her head and body !!!

But she had not even as much come near the poor child. How did she know it was a fatal, infectious disease ? Unless the disease was called abject poverty. She had also noticed that the child's leg had touched the carpet on which she sits down to read namaaz everyday. Everything had been soiled it seems. And I am the freak who allows pariahs into my house, on to my carpet, on to my children's playthings.

I kept burning in an indignant fire till hours afterwards. I am not class conscious. I eat from the office peon's tiffin. I have inherited this from my mother who is beyond care for anything and anyone at all.

I always turn to my husband in such times to give vent to my feelings. He patiently explained that the issue was not class but hygiene related.

I know that's not true but I will be a coward and let it pass.

Just Do it !

I got my jeep, my tattoo and as incongruous as it may sound, alongside, I have also started teaching at a Business School! Thats some work and it just proves that all that you read in those coffee table motivation books is actually true. Its possible and you can do it. If you try. If you are wondering what's my sermon about - I wrote a 'wannado' list a couple of weeks back

I have also made a new friend - 86 year old retired Sikh Doctor who now lives in Canada and who I found accidently on a yahoo group that I subscribe to. I call him Taya Ji since he says I remind of his niece Gurmit who lives in Delhi and he has taken it upon himself to teach me about religion. He sent me the first lesson on e mail - an overview about the beginning of religion and the history and essence of prevalent religions. All written by him, specially for me.

But its not as rosy as it sounds. I can't maneuver that car into my jam packed office car park so in the bargain I park half a kilometer away ( some exaggeration since it explains the situation) and walk to office with the luggage that I like to carry with me everyday. I've been lucky enough to only catch the odd drizzle till now but its still 2 months of monsoon in Delhi.

The Tattoo ? I am a wee bit embarrassed each time I extend my hand to people at meetings or while meeting strangers. I am always wondering if it 'slots' me. If it appears that I am trying to prove something ? If it makes me seem insecure, rebel with a cause ? Or maybe its all in my mind. My children greeted my tattoo with wonder and curiosity. My son thought it was the batman symbol upside down ! My daughter wanted to know how it was done. My mother in law chanced upon with curiosity then disgust. She wanted to know if it would remain forever.

My husband did not notice it !!!

Till finally , few days ago I extended my arm in front of him and said "I got a tattoo".

And teaching a class of 45 grown up post graduates is mean business. I slog the nights to study what I have to teach them. I travel an hour to reach the campus and its a bit disconcerting till now, but its been only 2 classes. I am eager to know if they think I am making sense. I want to make a difference - I am fascinated by teaching since it makes me drive harder to excel myself. It makes me better person than I could have been otherwise. But it burns me out and most days after the Kids, their holidays, the chores at home, office and teaching I am really tired.

Its now quite a climb to get the next one on my list.

Got to learn to swim this summer.

WJKKWJKF ! Been there, Done it !!

The tattoo place was inside a Schwarzkopf hair salon and they made me sit at the reception with a big Plasma TV on the facing wall. Two grown up people - a man and a woman were standing in front of the TV and watching cartoons on Nickolodeon. At first I thought they may just be inanely staring at the screen in want of nothing else to stare at (like me) but then I noticed they were both giggling intermittently. It was the Ninja Hattori show. Ruhi also watches it at home and I always thought it was one of those morbid cartoons which are meant to be mean and exciting. But it suddenly dawned upon me that Ninja Hattori is actually comical ! Never heard Ruhi laughing though.....anyway, after a bit, a heavily tattoed young guy came and looked me up. He asked me what I wanted.

I told him I wanted a 'Khanda' on my wrist and since he seemed quite blank, I started drawing it in air while explaining what it was, all the time wondering what he was doing in Delhi if he didnt know what a 'Khanda' was. As I went on. he calmly went behind the reception desk, browsed through a couple of folders and opened two designs of the 'khanda' and asked "which one ?"

We disagreed upon the design that would suit my wrist and I finally went by his selection. He disagreed with my decision to keep it small, but gave in quickly. He printed out the artwork, I disagreed with the size yet again and he took another printout which was smaller and we settled for that. On the spur of the moment I suddenly decided that I wanted the tattoo on the upper forearm instead of the wrist. I asked him for his opinion and he agreed and said it would also be much less painful on the forearm.

We went into a tiny cubicle which had something like a dentist's high chair besides a stool and a red bean bag. I sat on the high chair while he sat on a stool at my feet. He was very business like as he went about wearing gloves, showing me a fresh needle and taking out the ink etc. In the midst of it all he said : "why a 'Khanda ?"

I wasn't expecting him to ask me personal questions. He didn't even look friendly enough so I decided not to tell. I paused a second and then said "Long story".

It works ever time and he seemed to give up further conversation on the subject.

He pasted the artwork sticker on my arm and as he picked up the needle I asked him " Is it going to be very painful ?" He gave me a blank stare and said nothing. I thought that look meant my question was silly. So in answer to that look I said " Oh OK, so its going to be like pin pricks ?". He stared again and I thought then that he had nodded though I am not sure now.

When he started working the buzzing needle on me, I died.

The sharp shooting pain made me clench my fist in pain. He gave me a dirty look and stopped the needle to hiss "DON"T DO THAT".

It was slightly better after that. I clenched my teeth forever to control the pain and thought about my 2 Caesarian operations and that it could not pain more than the stitches. And then he started asking a volley of questions - If I was married, what I do, how many kids, where I live, how I came to know of him, if my family knew and approved of my decision... etc etc. I think asking questions is a useful trick to distract the 'patient's' mind away from the pain.

After the introductory set of questions were over he asked " so tell me the long story". It was paining so much that I didn't care as long as my mind was distracted enough to talk. I told him about my mixed marriage. And that this was my way of reinforcing my identity that will go down with me - just in case I do go into a grave instead of a pyre !

He said "8 years and you are still struggling." I told him that in fact my struggle had only just begun. I had been happily immune till a few years ago.

He asked : Did they give you a new name ? I told him the name a few aliens call me by : "Sara".

He said it was a nice name. Then he said " I wonder what name I will get !". He told me he was seeing a muslim girl and his prospective mother in law was hunting for a nice new name for him ! We both laughed. I suggested he should chose between Amir Khan & Shahrukh and that he should get an OM tattoo on his forehead ! I didn't notice the pain too much as we talked though I winced every now and then when he filled in the color. I now know that tattoos are not for the faint hearted !

Job over he wrapped my bleeding arm in a plastic wrap with strict instructions not to open the cling film before 4 hours. No water on the 'wound' for 10 days. No swimming, no sun, no waxing for 2 months and sunscreen on tattoo after that. The wound would develop a scab which should fall off in 10 days but I should not try to peel or touch it !

By the end of the 45 minutes, we were friends and knew a lot about each other ! Strange world.

I came back to office with a bleeding cling wrapped arm and had to leave immediately for a conference. On the way I bought some bandage and wrapped my arm in it. At the conference one of my interns who calls me 'madam' came to escort me inside and politely asked " ma'm how did you get hurt" I told him "Not hurt, I got my arm tattooed today". He smiled indulgently with disbelief, since I am known to say funny things at odd times.

About wearing it on my sleeve !

I've been trying hard to up the score on my 'wanna-do' list ! I am so conditioned to make Urgent/Important lists at work that I do it for just everything ! My priority workings get the the tattoo on the top primarily because I am convinced that I may just lose the urge if I let more time pass and that would mean I would let go my lifetime opportunity to hypothetically tell my kids in about a decade or so that I used be so 'cool' !

But more importantly and more seriously I do get a nagging feeling that I am actually already too old to be getting my first tattoo and if I delay it any further, embarrassment may get the better of me !

So anyway, I asked around and did some finding out. I got to know that there is a 'Devils Tatoo' right under my nose - a few feet away from office. I spent another couple of days deciding if a religious tattoo will upset my husband's family or if they may interpret it as a mark of my wearing my 'identity' on my sleeve....I wondered if I should discuss the tattoo with my husband and then I realised that he would be absolutely mortified by the idea of the cliched dirty needles and the hypochondriac that he is, he will blame all my future ailments on my precious tattoo. All things considered, I realise that if its Ok for me to get my hair straightened without discussing with him ( hypothetically again!), it should be OK to get the tattoo !!

I called up Devil's Tattoos number in my best voice and an irritated guy's voice snapped back at me. I thought he hadnt heard me right so I repeated sweetly again "Is that Devil's Tattoos?"

Irritated Voice " YES"

Its the tone that most Doctors have if you ever call them on their mobile. Its like, c'mon get it over with fast. I realised that I was actually unsure about what to ask him. I said : Where are you located ?"

Irritaed Voice (IV) : Basant Lok
Me: Errr I know that, any landmark ?
IV after 2 secs of silence, under clenched teeth : Above Hero Honda Showroom..
Me : Oh Ok, so how much do you charge?
IV : Rs 1500 for the first square inch madam..
Me : Ah Ok, so when can I come ?
IV is now losing it completely : NO ! You need an appointment first !
Me : ya, of course so when can I get an appointment ?
IV : Listen Madam, I am working just now, can't you call me later ?
Me : Of I am so sorry, I will call later but what is your name
IV under clenched teeth again : Lokesh

I made a mind picture of a generously tattooed guy with the phone under his ear and hands working the needle on the back of a pretty girl. Obviously he was irritated. I called back in 3 hours. In the interim I had my 'what- if' doubts again. Would I ever regret it ? Why a Khanda ? Is it a subconscious need to reinforce the fact that I am Sikh? What will I tell my children about its meaning and context?

When I called again the tattoo dude seemed relaxed. There was loud music in the background and he said the earliest he could give an appointment was on Friday, the 13th at 2.30 PM.

Finally.

Truth is rarely simple, hardly pure...

Friday, May 23, 2008 : 4 PM:

Like everyone else, I guess I have been very disturbed after the 14 year old Arushil was murdered in her sleep. Her first photo splashed in the newspapers was probably taken a couple of years ago when she still looked a small child. In that picture she has that sweet innocent look that I find on my 6 year old daughter's face. Its a very unsettling photograph and I have been mostly sleepless since then. I keep flipping news channels every night till I drop off with exhaustion. In the morning my stomach churns when I pick up the newspapers, in anticipation of that same photograph, those large smiling eyes starting at me. All of these days I have spent maximum time agonising over the death of that child. When the press started speculating that the father could be involved, I was livid with anger. Don't these journalists have Kids ? Don't they know how precious children are ? Can an educated man, a Doctor of repute harm his minor child, no matter what the provocation..


Just now, when I went back lurking on ibn7.com , I read that the father has been arrested. He did it. Killed his only child. The daughter had discovered his extra marital affair and he killed her. I was scared I'd puke on my desk. I felt a sharp shooting pain in my head - usual situation when I am going mad. Do I feel like that only because that girl Arushi looks like my daughter in that picture? Or is it that I can see the truth - that the society we live in is a reflection of what we are ourselves ? And that its all so ugly when you watch it like an audience, so , so, so...I don't have the right words. What do you call anything that is the most vile, disgusting beyond imagination....

Wannabe !

I am embarrassed to put up my 'Wanna do ' list here ! But I am doing it anyway !

Embarrassed,  firstly because I didn't want to admit that I don't know how to swim and secondly the fact that amongst the top ten things that I want to do ASAP is buy a bag that I don't need since I don't keep the company where my bag really matters. Its so a 'wannabe' thing. 

But I decided long ago to be excruciatingly honest on my blog or to not write at all ! And write this list I must because I can't still believe that I bought my Jeep a month ago ! I've so so much wanted to drive my own jeep for so many years now !

Its one thing off my list and I didn't imagine it would be the very first since it cost more than the bag that I want and the US trip and swimming classes and the tattoo and the hair cut and the potter's wheel and the gym membership put together ! 

So I have hope that I will live (not just buy, rent, pay house loan till in the grave) in that humble house of my dreams !

And I know, that if I write it down here, it won't be easy to forget it in a hurry !

So here goes :

1. Learn to swim

2.Own a Jeep 

3. Live in a house with a just-for-me private bathroom with an ordinary bathtub, a very fancy modern kitchen with all the gizmos in the world, bay windows in the rooms, white curtains and a small terrace balcony from where one can watch the stars at night. No light-bulbs, no TV, no mobile phones. Only internet ! lol

4. Get a potter's wheel & small studio of my own in that patch of land that my husband owns in the wilderness near Delhi

5. Take the Kids to Disneyland before they grow up

6. Learn to play a musical instrument

7. Get a 'khanda' Tattooed on my wrist

8. Teach in a School

9. Buy a LV Bag :(

10. Start Gymning

11. Get Ruhi to dance...
12. A gold chain anklet for one ankle !
13. Start sketching again & start Painting 

14. Buy a Nikon SLR & pursue serious photography

15...

I have edited this list to add more things as I go along ! Its a never ending game isn't it ! 

................................................................................

I have the state of mind to compile the above,  when around me, an earthquake has killed more than 50,000 people in China. A lot of them small Kids. And 9 cycle bombs have killed 63 people closer home in Jaipur. 

Quite out of context, in reference to Michel Houellebecq I told a friend this afternoon that I am an eternal optimist. My friend said I was lucky.

Mothers' Day !

May 11, 2008 : 7.45 PM inside PVR Saket, just settled in my seat after dragging a bawling Rayyan along with his dirty blue blanket (it goes everywhere), omelette & biscuits, water bottle (which I always have to sneak inside since they don't allow it), Ruhi and Kirti inside the auditorium to watch a movie called 'Bhootnath'.

Its the first day of my children's school vacation and though I despise the thought of watching a three hour long movie about a bollywood Ghost, I make them seated and fetch two large buckets of popcorn & Juice, trying not to leave a trail of popcorn as I walk down the aisle to my corner seat.

Rayyan & Kirti are sharing a bucket and I am sharing popcorn with Ruhi and the movie has already started. I love popcorn more than any food on earth. Only Ruhi can make me not dig my face into that large PVR popcorn bucket and keep my chin stuck in it till its physically impossible to eat directly with my mouth.

So I do the next best thing - I take fistfuls of popcorn from her at regular short intervals and stuff my mouth with my fist. Its like, I hold my fist full of popcorn to my mouth and munch off each flake till it has all disappeared in my mouth. PVR popcorn tastes like heaven and I am lost in my popcorn bliss till I feel Ruhi nudging me frantically.

She has a disgusted look on her face : " STOP EATING LIKE A MONKEY!"

I immediately withdraw the fist from my mouth and start feeling like a 5 year old caught misbehaving : " Awwww...I' am sorry Ruhi..."

Ruhi : "Oh God, and you are dropping it too !"

Me : "Shucks, really sorry poppet..."

I transfer the leftover popcorn to my left hand and pick up just one and silently put it in my mouth. She is back to watching the movie again.

I look at the dainty little proper miss from the corner of my eye and tell myself : Happy mothers day !

Katrina Kaif Vs Moi !

Rayyan's usual style of entering the house after he has been fetched from school is to shoot inside like a rocket that takes off from our gate. If there is anyone around inside the house, there is mad scramble and great noise about saving him from hitting the dining table glass or crashing into the door. If there is nobody around, he stands near the kitchen and announces in the most musical voice ' Main aa gaya a a a" ( I have arrived !). LOL

So this morning as usual, I was sitting on my corner of the bed, pretending indifference as I heard excited noises of Rayyan coming back from school. I usually wonder if at all he would remember me admist the great fanfare he is received with, by Dada, Dadi Kirti Didi, Nanak Bhaiya, the girls in my husbands small home office !

He usually comes charging up the stairs to my room with great speed, chattering away to himself after his reception committee have done their number. Sometimes he takes more time with his coterie and then my impatience gets the better of my pretended indifference. If he takes more than 10 minutes to come upstairs, I scream ' Raeeeeeeee' - my pet name for him that irritates his urdu-diction -fixated grandmother so much!

Today, he came scurrying up as usual and said " hello mummy" .

Ruhi has always called me Mama or ma and Rayyan also mostly calls me Mama. But sometimes when he feels like it he says the most funny punjabi accented 'mummy' ever !

Me : Hello Raeeeee, come give me a hug please?
Rayyan : Main kattykettle se shaadi karoonga ( I will marry ' kattykettle')
Me : WHATTTT?

Kirti (his maid) promptly explains that he wants to marry Katrina Kaif !

I gape at him with mock shock (inside my head I am making plans to get the cable connection disconnected ASAP...how could he possibly know how hot Kattykettle was without watching an overdose of Zee music ?!)

Me : No Rayyan, 'Kattykettle' will not love you like Mama does. PLEASE marry me?

Rayyan : "No, No, No. 'KattyKettle' se shaadi karoonga".

And then he shoots off like a rocket again in the opposite direction.

I smile in amusement, heave a sigh and start collecting my things to leave for work.

After just a few minutes, he sneaks back to the room carefully making sure no one else is listening.

Comes up and whispers in my ear : "Main aap se shaadi karroonga !" ( I will marry you )

I make the most horrid coochie- coo noises, pick him up and kiss his entire face, squeeze him and tickle him till he is shrieking and kicking to get me off his tiny self !

Move on kattykettle !

LOL

Rayyan's third birthday !

Rayyan turned 3 on April 18th and his grandparents arrived from Jodhpur a day earlier in anticipation of his birthday 'bash'. I felt very queasy with that invisible pressure of knowing that his Dada & Dadi felt disappointed that there was no birthday party for Rayyan, specially because I go out of the way to organize a rather ostentatious party every year for my daughter ! What they don't know is that after every such party I vow never to have another one again. Because I invariably end up planning the party keeping the adult guests in mind even if I don't want to, and no matter how well it is planned, I get to do the donkey's job without a minute to spare to be with Ruhi and her friends. At the end of a rather expensive and tiresome day I have always ended up wishing I had spent the day alone with my daughter...
Ruhi loves her birthday parties. Her favorite year round game is to organise birthday parties for herself. Sometimes imaginary. Rayyan, I think is too little to understand what it means to have your own birthday party ! He believes that birthdays are wonderful events that other kids have and where you get return gifts. So everyone who said 'happy birthday' to him got a 'happy birthday' back in return. 

Ruhi was initially  grumpy about Rayyan's birthday since she can't deal with him getting such special attention solo ! But since she loves playing hostess to her friends and since this is her favorite game she enthusiastically invited her girlfriends in the neighborhood at rather short notice upon my suggestion. I organised for some finger food, choco pies, popcorn, chips, icecream and other kiddie stuff while dadaji baked a few cakes. Yes, a FEW of them, don't ask me why !!

Rayyan does not have any friends yet in School or in the neighborhood. He usually plays with Ruhi's girlfriends in the park so he was delighted when the girls dropped in with presents. Ruhi snatched the presents and opened them for him promptly demanding ownership of them. She even insisted in cutting his cake for him but could not get away with that one! I was very proud of my boy as he confidently blew out the candles and cut his cake without help. He will be fine, I know, with or without me around.

I played games with the Kids, helped them make a giant card for Rayyan, we danced and had great fun. In the evening my parents, brother & best friend dropped in for dinner. Rayyan had a blast cutting another of the few cakes grandpa had baked ! He is a delightful boy who smiles a lot and talks nines to the dozen but is shy with strangers. He preens for hours in front of the mirror and makes eyes at little girls. He tells me I should wear hair clips and notices my nailpaint, earstuds and new clothes unlike his father! His favourite thing nowadays is to call me 'Meri Mummy' ! I fall in love with him a little bit more every other day...