Turning over a new leaf - Concluded

I used to think my software job was exhausting. And then, motherhood happened.

So we come home from the hospital to a rousing reception,balloons, aartis et al. Not to mention the "oohs" and the "aahs" over how adorable the baby is,from aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, neices, neighbors, basically everyone I ever knew and random neighborhood grannies that I never even knew existed. And a husband who is stalking me around with a video camera so intently that you'd start suspecting this guy has a secret night job of a paparazzo.
It's only when he does a playback of the video, later that night, that I realize, that I only had a cameo in his "movie" and the star of course was the little debutante bundled up in my arms all the while. Sure enough, I was relegated to playing the "hero's mother" now. Sigh.

And later that night, as I crawled into bed hoping to turn in for the day , he began his thing. No no, not the husband, you perverts. The baby, of course. You know, the thing. like all the babies of the world.
-Begin crying and mommy would guess you're hungry and feed you until you fall asleep again. -Half an hour later, just when mommy has laid you down on your bed and is beginning to just about feel her eyelids draw shut, start crying again.
-Don't stop until she holds you and if she makes that mistake of thinking you've calmed down and tries to put you down again, kick it up a notch and let out a wail so loud that even a mommy notorious for sleeping through earthquakes would be kicked wide awake.
-If things get too monotonous, demand to be walked around the house. Well yes, 3 o'clock is the perfect time for a morning walk, its 3 in the morning, remember?
-A few nappy changes and feeds later, just when mommy looks like she is seriously contemplating tossing you out of the window, decide it's enough fun and games for the day and finally go to sleep. Only for a couple of hours before its time for another meal and we start the loop again.

Addy(oh yeah -that's what we will know him as, on this blog) pretty much spent the first month perfecting this routine and in the process, driving mommy nuts. What was triple chocolate cake of pregnancy was now sleep, the one thing I truly craved for. All I dreamt of when I rarely got to sleep was , that's right, sleep. And of course, there's the the significant change in lifestyle(read house arrest) right after a baby, specially when you've had a pretty active social and professional life. You hardly have the time to notice that there is actually a world beyond the cradle. Life as you'd known it, gets kinda lost in a pile of poopy diapers.

So one such harried sleepless night,after I laboriously nursed Addy to what seemed like an 'All you can eat' meal he was working on (I later read about 'cluster feeding'), I was ready to put him down to sleep. But apparently, he had something else planned for mommy. One huge smile that had "You make me so happy" written all over it. I had never seen him smile the way he did, ever before. Babies have a weird sense of timing alright, but come on, who wouldn't melt to this?

I think I smiled back at him foolishly. I was kinda fuzzy from the lack of sleep, but I am pretty sure that it was myself who told me that night that this one visual makes all the bother well worth it.

And the journey that is motherhood continued to be scripted. Speaking of which, I have been tracking Addy's milestones quite eagerly . I must have texted every single person on the address book of my cellphone the day Addy rolled over for the first time. And screamed in delight on the phone to G the day he sat up and tried to crawl. And told every single person, even strangers I ran into, the day he actually took his first step.

But, all glorious tales of motherhood said and done, it is also a fact that I can be such a cranky baby at times. Throw a fit for random reasons and blame it all on the "stress" of raising a child.But it's such a blessing to have this guy for a husband who knows that sometimes, all you need is to be babied. God knows where he gets his endless patience from and I'd better be grateful for it. The focus of his handy cam "movie" might be on Addy, but he's never let his shift from me even for a moment. Whether it was making sure I ate right during the nursing phase or regaling me with tales of office gossip that I was missing all the while, he's been the perfect partner in this entire parenthood gig. Fumbling and learning along the way together, we've had some of the most amazingly endearing moments of our lives with this child. And it's only getting better.

And I'd be nothing short of a wretch if I don't mention Hampi here. Hampi is my mom's sister, my favourite aunt since my childhood.Or wait, I was her favorite child of all time. The one that almost adopted me when I was 5 ,since she had no children of her own at the time. She went on to have a son later on, yet continued to love me way more than him. And when Addy was born, there was absolutely no question in her mind as to whose care I'd be under for the first few months. She welcomed me and her grandchild into her home with open arms and did such a fantastic job of supporting us through the first few months, my Amma would be a proud proud sister.

Now when motherhood becomes your full time job, the one you used to have before kinda takes a backseat. Mine has too. Now I am not sure if things would have been different if Addy had a grandma, but the paranoid mom inside me tells me I would have probably taken the sabbatical that I did anyway. I still tell all my friends who ask me why I never went back to work after 3 or 6 or whatever months that I somehow never could bring myself to deal with even the thought of leaving Addy with a nanny. He always seemed "too young" for it and dying of guilt everyday is not exactly my idea of fun. Nevertheless, I cannot picture myself staying home forever to be with Addy and I plan to get back to my job this year. I know it's not going to be easy even then, but if I don't, I would be so unfair to that part of the woman in me who has always wanted to have a flourishing professional life as well. It's not going to be easy and I will have to learn the ropes of being a working mom even then. On the other hand, it's also likely that a break this long would put me behind my peers in the office ranks,but I'd know that the year and a half I spent with my son was way too invaluable in comparison.

I sound like I would go to the ends of the world for my family don't I? Well you know, I actually did.
In June last year, G heard that he'd have to travel to the client site to fill a certain position as quickly as he could. And that meant, we would have to get on a plane and fly to the other end of the world. To America. So we landed here in Minneapolis, a nine month old Addy in tow.
A whole new place for Addy, but landing here was a feeling of deja vu for G and I who had lived here for a couple of years in the past.
Almost eight months here now and well, time just flies.Faster than ever I guess, specially when you have a toddler who is a handful and more. Addy has had his share of fun in summer prancing around outdoors. Even got to make his maiden trip to Disneyland, where he spent most of his time wondering why mommy and daddy were acting like a bunch of excited kiddos themselves.And now in winter, he's finding new ways everyday to have fun despite the freezing weather and snow (Maybe I should do a separate post on that someday?)

I conclude, with pictures of my little imp through his first year..

..The year through which he laughed and cried, fumbled yet recovered, learnt something new from every experience. And in the bargain, did a whole lot of growing up.

So did I.

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...)

Sur'prize'..Sur'prize'!

My earliest memory of receiving a prize goes back to the time when I was six years old. I was at this Annual Day event at school where the agenda, apart from the “cultural programs” (read song and dance numbers from kids made to wear make-up of at least two inches thickness!) also included a prize distribution ceremony. The idea was to reward kids who’d scored the highest in every subject in the curriculum, individually. A jolly good idea to avoid one smart ass namely the class topper, walk away with all the glory!

I was slated to receive three prizes, for English, Science and Social Studies. I was summoned on stage three separate times and was given three different books and some coloring pens. Well, the reality was that the only rewards I could ever dream of reaping were strictly restricted to academics. It was a distressing sight every Sports Day , when I'd get thrashed black and blue in all "races" I competed, by kids with far superior athletic abilities!

As I sat there with my friends, proudly showing off my heist, I was caught unaware, when I heard my name being called out yet again! Much to my surprise, I found out I'd found out that I had the highest scores in all three sections of 2nd grade! The management had decided to award a special prize for that particular feat as well!
The prize was a cool kiddy story book, a Russian publication that had this really amazing wrapper and lots of pictures. I remember L’il sister being particularly besotted with that book. So much so that, at the age of four, she’d mugged up the entire book and would compel everyone in the house to listen to her recital (both backward and forward!) at least once every day!

As for me, it was like being announced “Man of the Series” soon after you’ve been announced “Man of the Match” , the perfect icing on the cake! No prizes for guessing that I grinned from ear to ear during the rest of the day.

To think of it now, I feel it’s purely the surprise element or rather the shock element that’s left this incident etched in my mind, even after all these years.

So the last week at work, as I stared at the monitor pretending to decipher a complicated software architecture diagram, while actually surfing the net for the best spots to holiday in Malaysia in another window, I spotted my manager walking towards my desk. After the initial "how's it going" small talk, he went on to ask me to attend this meeting the next day with a different team(that he manages, apart from mine), in order to help them out of a major crisis that they'd landed themselves in. Now, this was not something that I was not used to, since I'd helped the same team resolve some issues even earlier.
Although I muttered a “Damn!Not Again!” under my breath, sending out silent curses to the goofy guys in that team, who messed up so regularly, you can't really refuse when your manager makes a personal request, can you? And I agreed.

The next day, as I walked into the conference room, expecting a room full of glum people, I noticed my manager looking a little too cheery for a crisis resolution meeting. Considering that he'd described the crisis situation as really colossal, I wondered how on earth this guy even managed a smile, even if it was fake!
But then, the smile only got bigger, as he rose from his seat and proceeded to deliver this absolutely fancy vote-of-thanks kind of speech, acknowledging my earlier contribution of having resolved some rather unnerving issues in that team. All praise for my effort, he went on to say how those issues had the team vexed for weeks and how I was able to resolve it in a matter of hours. As I sat there, feeling rather embarrassed, he dished out a cool backpack, and presented it to me, amidst much fanfare and applause.

After the meeting, he explained to a really-taken-aback me, that the whole crisis resolution meeting was just a decoy, and he'd called the meeting to ensure he recognized my effort in the presence of the entire team. The unjustly cursed 'goofy guys' hadn't really messed up in reality.

And I thought to myself - A "nice manager" is not really the oxymoron that I thought it was, after all! He very well could have let me know beforehand, but then he'd meant the whole thing to be a surprise, just to make me happier! What a darling eh?

Déjà vu! The surprise element had done it again! Enhanced the pleasure of being rewarded, many fold.
Whether it’s the story book or the backpack, they will be remembered fondly as two of the most memorable prizes I’ve received, all thanks to the happiness they’ve brought, when you least expected it.

Even then, it’s never about what prize you’ve been rewarded with, Is it?

It’s always the memory of the experience, that turns out to be the prized possession!

Of 'growing up' and 'becoming'

During a chitchat session, my dad had me in splits when he mentioned that, as a kid, he always dreamed of growing up to become a bus conductor.
“Wow! What a rewarding job , Dad” I said, still laughing at his atypical choice.
But to him, the rationale was straightforward – You get to ride on a bus all day and what’s better, even get paid for it! :-)

And that made me go into flashback mode.

Here’s a list of the dream jobs that I aspired for during my ‘wonder years’ and beyond..

Bollywood Heroine – I was probably 6 or 7 when the movie Mr. India was released in Bangalore. I still remember sitting in the balcony seat of Drive-In theatre, nudging my mom every 3 minutes to translate the Hindi dialogues for me. It was fun to watch Anil Kapoor’s antics and the kids’ cavorting all over the place. But when Sridevi appeared on the screen, it was something else! As I watched her boogie to ‘Hawa Hawai’ and play powerchick journalist with equal oomph, I was floored. And hey, she even got the superhero in the end!I was convinced - I wanted to be her.
The next day, as I played a little “Mirror Mirror on the wall” with my dressing table mirror just to double check , it said “You’re alright, except for the two bunny teeth jutting out of ur mouth” . Oh No!! I ran to the resident Bollywood expert, my mom – “Mommmm..Is there a heroine who doesn’t have err...perfect teeth?” . Not realizing how life changing her answer could have been , she replied casually “Hmm..yeah there is, Moushumi Chatterjee”. Phew! That was reassuring!

Interpreter - Soon, the heroine dream wore off . With my parents constantly motivating me and my siblings to excel in academics, I probably realized they wouldn’t be as excited about the Bollywood angle as I was! And excel , I kinda did. I topped my class most of the time in middle school, although there was the occasional underdog who would saunter in and beat me to first place! But I was unbeatable in languages. I top scored every single time in all three languages in the curriculum– English, Kannada and Hindi. My mom would beam with pride in the Parent-teacher meetings whenever my class teacher was all praise for my language scores. As we walked home from one of these meetings, she told me about these amazing people called interpreters. People who had a multitude of languages at their fingertips. People who accompanied hi-flying politicians, beaurocrats et al on foreign jaunts just to help them understand what another person was saying in another tongue. People who were paid 60 bucks(!) a page to translate a script to from one language to another! And it dawned upon me- I could be one of them- the high flying, money spinning multi linguist!

Housewife(!!) – I know I know, it ain’t a job. But it was a dream nonetheless! I was in class 8 when two completely unrelated events occurred – I fell head-over-heels in love with one of my bro’s pals and my cousin sister tied the knot. Her marriage was the stuff that dreams were made of. A typical day in her life consisted of lazing around home all day and getting decked up in the evenings for cotton candy/bhel puri outings with hubby. And then, the million and one phone calls from hubby during the day, where she’d blush as he whispered sweet nothings into the receiver. I wanted my own fairy tale too! I was yearning to lead the domesticated life, of course with my crush , happily ever after. All my smitten self just wanted was to emulate them! All of a sudden, housewifedom was happening!

Doctor – With time, my crush met with its fate. It was over. It just faded away, just like that!And I was back to dreaming about less rosy stuff. And this time, it was about the medical profession. At Class 11, all thanks to my great scores, it wasn’t hard for my Biology professor to believe I fitted the bill perfectly. While the rest of the class dozed off during lectures about the human digestive system, I would be listening with rapt attention in the very first bench. He’d exhibit my near perfect answer scripts for the entire class while I’d smugly smile at everyone from my seat.After Class 12, I even gave my medical entrance exams scoring twice as better as I did in the engineering entrance exam. But then, this was not to be either. My parents and everyone else in the family very successfully put a damper on my spirits when they scared me about how I’d be studying forever and ever and ever, while my peers who opted to study engineering would be having high flying careers, earning 10 times more!

And so I gave up. The doc dream was over too. And I made a half-hearted choice. To be an engineer.The irony hadn’t ended just yet. I studied to be an electrical engineer and ended up in the software business!

Looking back, there aren’t any regrets. There is absolutely nothing I’d want to change. My job’s been empowering in a lot of ways-Given me the gift of self belief. Made me independent, well financially atleast. Given me the opportunity to travel. I even found myself a husband, while at it! I couldn’t have asked for more! Finally, I had ‘become’ something.

And I had ‘grown up’ as well. I’d learnt to judge what was best for me. Realised that what you want changes with time, as you evolve as a person.That you weigh out pros and cons and make a well-informed decision. Acknowledged that your parents know best and letting them decide for you isn’t a bad idea after all. Concluded that ‘Everything that happens, happens for your good” is not just a cliché but a fact of life as well.

So, what did you want to be when you ‘grew’ up?