My entry for the International Women's Day Blogging Contest on Indusladies

One of my favorite-est bloggers published her entry for the Indusladies International Women's Day blogging contest recently. And I was duly inspired to post an entry of my own. I've chosen to blog about the topic "Financial Freedom" and the below would be my entry.

I am going to title this entry "A promise fulfilled"

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"If there is anything that I regret in my life, it's the fact that I did not have a job when I needed it the most", said Ratna rather woefully.
Both her daughters, aged 15 and 13 were listening with rapt attention to their mother who had somehow chosen them to be her sounding board that day.

Ratna's husband, whom she'd married years ago, much to her parents' opposition was indeed a loving person. A doting father to his children, he was a man who worked hard and always strived to provide the best for his family. Three bright children and an affectionate wife, his family was a picture of perfection.

But steadily, the perfection had begun to wane.

Holding a good position in a reputed software firm, he did earn a respectable paycheck at the end of every month. But then, when it came to matters of the money, he was as gullible as one could get.
There is never a dearth of con artists who are waiting to make a quick buck by luring such naive people into their grand schemes. This man, sadly, was one such victim who fell prey to not one, but several of such schemes and would invariably end up losing a big chunk of his hard earned money every now and then. One wrong decision led to another, manifesting into a vicious cycle.

When you are the lone breadwinner of a family of five that included three grown children, it's never easy. You may have a stable source of income in the form of your job, but then there are societal pressures that dictate your actions so strongly sometimes that you end up making decisions on an impulse. It doesn't help things either when you are a naive person by nature. Add a bunch of swindlers out there with fake "multiply your money manifold quickly" schemes to the mix and you readily have a recipe for a surefire fiasco.
And when one venture backfires, you want to make up for the loss in a hurry and that makes you quickly jump into another "quick fix" one. I guess this is what happened with him too, before he found himself with his 'next to nothing' savings and a dejected wife.The money that Ratna was earnestly saving up in the hopes of buying a home some day was fast depleting in front of her eyes. As his wife, Ratna couldn't help but feel betrayed. Her advice to stay away from these swindlers had only fallen on deaf ears, as he continued to burn his fingers relentlessly. Naturally, that angered her and it began to take its toll on their relationship. They would sometimes have bitter quarrels and of course, there would never be a winner.

But as a mother, she had far bigger concerns. She had two young daughters whose education had yet to be completed. And of course, the biggest worry that haunts every parent of daughters - their marriage.

Now, Ratna was a post graduate in Sociology who had always been among the foremost of her peers. Getting oneself a job with those kind of credentials was never difficult. But, post marriage, the idea of being a home maker appealed more to her. And then, they had three children who needed her attention more than ever. Being a stay at home mother was a decision Ratna made mostly out of choice, but a part of it was also compulsion.

"I would never have to live in the fear of our savings getting squandered if I had a job today. All I wanted was to live in a home of our own some day and have enough to secure your future, but I hate it that I am so powerless right now to make that happen", Ratna continued, choking up.

But she was quick to regain composure. After all, she wasn't just looking for a shoulder to cry on, it was a much bigger agenda. To impart the biggest life lesson she had ever cared about, to her daughters.
"I do not know if I would live long enough to see how you girls will finally turn out , but remember your mother always wants you to be financially independent at any point in your lives", she said looking in their eyes.
"You will never be at the mercy of a man for every single necessity of your life, the best ever man though you might marry."

"You will never ever end up being the helpless, distraught woman that your mother is right now", she said still looking straight into their eyes.

As both her daughters nodded silently, they knew they had promised their mother and themselves that one day, no matter what, they would do her proud.

One of them was me.

Amma did not live long enough to see me or my younger sister get past college and land pretty decent jobs soon after.

I still remember the day I was paid my first salary. A mere 20,000 rupees in all , but that still made me feel invincible in a foolish way. All I wanted to do was run to Amma with that money and exclaim "Look Amma, that's my money!" . And revel in the pride that would show in her eyes. When we both would know that the first step towards fulfilling the promise of financial freedom I made her that day, had been taken.

Through the years, financial freedom to me has meant much more than having enough dough to splurge on clothes and shoes. Or buying fancy presents for loved ones. Sure these things are absolute bliss too. But the essence of having "my own" money is to know that I am in control and free to take decisions fearlessly and on my own terms.
So, when I bought my first apartment at the age of 23, there was a feeling of exhilaration and achievement of fulfilling my mother's dream of owning a home, but most importantly it was about a sense of empowerment. That which came from being financially independent or as the cliche goes, "standing on my own two feet".

Staying on the topic of financial freedom, we women are somehow still not very adept at managing our finances well several times. We tend to leave the most important decisions to our husbands and don't really take charge of our money for seemingly valid reasons but what are really excuses. Lack of time, lack of aptitude in understanding financial matters, preoccupied with family/kids are probably the most commonly quoted ones.

But ladies, here's one scary piece of statistic which says 7 out of 10 women live in poverty at some point in their lives. If that doesn't sound like a wake up call to you, what does?

Yes it's true, my eyes glaze over and English suddenly starts sounding like Greek when I am reading the red herring prospectus of a company of which I intend to buy some stocks. But as Suze Orman, the most recognized face in the arena of personal finance points out, the key is to educate ourselves in small, easy to manage steps. In other words, if you are like me, do yourself a favor , just walk into a book store and pick up that copy of "Personal finance for dummies" . Yeah yeah, Nobody's watching.
In the end, you'd be amazed how just managing your money wisely will do wonders to your self esteem.

So this women's day, let's all celebrate the freedom that keeps the worry of the what-ifs of life at bay. The freedom that gives us the courage to stretch our limits, express our power and fulfill our potential. The freedom of the financial kind.

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I know it's pretty late in the game, but I will go ahead and tag Deeps, Lavs and Sweta. Girls, I know you all have it in you to rock this contest. The rest of you , please feel free to blog away if this interests you too.

Go for it and kick some butt (even if it's mine) :)

Turning over a new leaf - Part 1

Death.Birth. Rebirth. A New Beginning.

They all happened. Right here. In my life.

I have written of my mother in this blog. As much as that post was a celebration of the amazing person she was, it also spoke of a sense of void that has been left behind in my life with her passing.
Only people close to me know the cause. Or rather I choose not to talk about it to everyone who wants to know "what happened" due to reasons, some obvious and some not so much.

Cancer.

Some years ago, when my husband G and I were on the brink of starting our wedded life together, I'd sometimes open up to him about how my life changed forever after she was diagnosed with a Stage 4 case of the kidney. He, who had never met Amma, would patiently listen to my heart wrenching account of her suffering and offer that much needed shoulder of support ,all the while sympathizing but never truly perceiving the magnitude of impact on the entire family when a member, more so, the mother falls prey to this deadly monster. I was thankful enough I'd found my sounding board in him that I never cared or even wished that he be able to empathize.

Little did I know then that the monster would return. Yet again.

A couple of years after our wedding, when G and I were in the middle of our respective professional assignments in the US , we learnt about his mother being diagnosed with a Stage 3 malignancy of the stomach. When we returned to India immediately thereafter, the doctors assured us that all hope wasn't lost and there were realistic chances of a recovery.
Usually, just a malignancy diagnosis is enough to devastate you . I half-expected to see a totally bogged down person weakened both physically and mentally, but a surprise is what I was in for. She did look a little emaciated from the surgery but I'd never forget that smile lighting up that rather paled down face as soon as she saw her son and her daughter in law at the doorstep. The surgery and the diagnosis was probably all forgotten that one moment as she melted into her son's arms.
Later that day in the kitchen, as she poured coffee into cups, she said "Its your father in law I am worried about..I can totally handle this, but I am not sure how he's going to. I don't want to hassle anybody in my family". As she looked at me, I could see half a tear at the corner of her eye. Eyes of a beautiful middle aged woman that I'd seen teary only when she bade goodbye to us on our onward journey to America. Those tears weren't the "heavy" kind. They had a rather flimsy purpose, lament about someone you're going to miss for a year or two. You vented and you were done. You would even forget you were teary eyed a while ago.
But this tear was heavy...With fear. With uncertainty. With sadness. With guilt.
The last I saw it was in my own Amma's eye when she had to undergo a major brain surgery at a time when both her student daughters were in the middle of their grad level exams.
I had hardly lived with my mother in law to know her well. It was just about three months after our wedding that we traveled to America. But that day, I knew this. If there was anyone going to be her tower of strength through this entire ordeal, it was herself.

Dozens of chemotherapy and radiotherapy sessions ensued thereafter. She amazed the docs themselves with her never-say-die attitude and resolve. She made the hair loss issue seem like a minor cosmetic change that she was going through, making no qualms about hiding it under a wig. She avoided discussions about the disease with anyone who brought it up even by accident. She was cooking, traveling, attending family functions, gardening..doing just about everything that had made her the energetic and enthusiastic person she was.

She so wanted to treat this whole episode as a nightmare that she will one day wake up from and heave a sigh of relief realising it was all just not real.

That never happened.

Our relationship though only went from strength to strength through the entire ordeal. We were talking more. We were sharing more. We were learning from each other more. We were being grateful for each other more. I am not sure if we would have bonded any better otherwise. I sometimes wish we hadn't.
One particular day, when most days had turned miserable, she lay there on the hospital bed looking at me rather wistfully as I massaged her feet. It was a time when she no longer had the strength to talk much or be mobile. Those days, my eyes had become weary of making contact with hers to avoid becoming teary . I felt a nudge on my elbow and I moved closer.

"Did you need something? A blanket? Something to drink, maybe?"

As she nodded, I felt her frail, almost shivering palm stroking my cheek. I managed a slight smile clutching her palm in return, but somehow they rolled down, the damn tears. And right there in that hospital ward, in absolutely no words at all, she conveyed to me something so clearly that words couldn't. I had become to her, the daughter she never had.

And then her battle was over. Cancer proved itself invincible yet again.

Another loss. To me, of a mother, yet again.

It has been well over a year and a half now. Her spirit lives on though. In the warm, wonderful home that she built for her family...

...And, in the smile of one certain person she never could meet. A newcomer.A debutante.

(To be continued...)

On Amma's Day

• She is the walking Webster’s English dictionary. Every time an unfamiliar word would cross my path, I’d just have look “her” up, instead of the big fat lexicon.
• She is the compulsive book worm. Tidying up a house so messy, that it looks like a war field or doing the pile of dishes forming a little mountain in the sink would figure nowhere on her to-do list when she would be in the middle of an interesting read.
• She is the in-house Deccan Herald Daily Crossword champ. Cracking the toughest of ‘em in record time and having only one person in the household to better it. Herself.
• She makes the most delectable Mysore Pak in the entire universe. Somehow or the other, it turns out the best only on my birthday!
• She weaves magic on her knitting pins, crafting the most exquisite of sweaters for Dad and the three of us. Turning us into show-offs amidst awestruck friends who just don’t seem to believe that the sweater was actually created from scratch, on our living room sofa.
• She carries off a salwar kameez with utmost elegance. Leaving her much younger perpetually-clad-in-a-saree sisters go green with envy when their neighbors mistake her to be their younger sibling!
• She and I yap for hours on end, standing in our balcony. One way or another, we never run out of topics. Whether it’s having a good laugh about dad’s goofy ways or a serious discussion about what career should choose for myself.
• She is the one I run to, every Sports Day after coming last in the Running Race,Skipping Race,Obstacle Race, well, every goddamn race and she would be ready with her line. "Never mind, Participation is important, there's always next year". Never mind that next year would be the same miserably sad story, yet that line somehow works like magic when she says it.
  
• She tells me very matter-of-factly that I look like Tabu and l’il sister looks like Karisma Kapoor. Lying all bandaged up in the ICU after a major surgery.
• She is a huge fan of Dev Anand and his histrionics. She must have watched every single Hindi movie produced in Bollywood, including those that the producers themselves never bothered to sit through. Yet cannot carry out a decent conversation in Hindi for nuts!
• She is “Amma” to not only us but another little cousin. Whose mother went back to work, entrusting him to her every day, knowing a smart post-graduate woman who chose to stay at home to look after her three kids, could never go wrong when it came to raising kids.
• She just won’t step out of the house without doling out atleast 65 instructions to me and L’il sister. Rattling ‘em off at 120 kmph, she knows we ain’t paying attention, yet never gives up.
• She knows it’s me, her 12 year old, who has rummaged her wardrobe when she wasn’t home and tried on all her sarees and left the wardrobe looking like a laundry basket. Yet, when she’s back, she just rearranges the wardrobe neatly without a whimper, leaving the nervous 10 year-old thinking her mom has no clue.
• She accompanies me, her jittery 10th grader to the exam hall every day, advising throughout the way, to take it easy and how getting "tense" could ruin my performance. And when the exam bell rings and it's time to get in the hall,suddenly I am the less "tenser" one around!
  
• She walked out on her father who objects to his post grad daughter marrying “just a graduate”, entering into the first love marriage of the family.Years later, all three of her children follow suit.
• She never fails to say "You won't understand now..You will when you're a mother yourself" at regular intervals. Invariably, l'il sister and I utter the second half of that sentence in chorus with her, as soon as we hear the first half from her. Yet, the line somehow never changes.
  

It's been six years since Amma's gone.

Yet, it doesn't feel like she's gone far enough to not hear when I say..

"Happy Mother's Day, Amma!"