Surviving day1

I was torn between priorities. I could keep browsing aimlessly. I could read an amazing book - The tie that Binds, yet another master piece by an author who has captured my imagination, Kent Haruf. For people who might not have heard about him, he writes dramas set in the 1950s America. There is no indication of the time line, I am taking a guess with the picture he paints. And he writes beautifully. Beautiful literature. Simple characters with minor convolutions in their lives making each day a little bit harder or easier as the case may be. His stories are beautiful.... I am at a loss for words(mind you that is not something that happens often) OK coming back. I could read this book. Or I could watch the movie Hindi Medium which has become available to be streamed ;) Or I could actually get a bit more productive and write something which would give a vent to the thoughts knocking my eardrums.

So. Let me write. 

Yesterday was an epic day. Oh well SRK wasn't waking in the town centre oh no. Yesterday Chiyaa 's term got over. She started her summer vacations. A year ago, it was such anxiety. Which school would she get a place in and what not. Within the blink of an eye (cliché I know) a year has gone past. When I went to collect her yesterday, some scenes were quite emotional. There were a few kids changing schools ( it's preferably done at end of terms) and they were giving gifts and thank you notes to the teachers. There were pics being taken. I am not a pics person. Well I am more than K but  way less than the average Facebook-er. So I shied away from that. I saw everyone carrying a thick class works notebook. And Chiyaa didn't have hers. She said 'it's gone to the photocopier'.  I didn't believe it. She has a tendency to throw jargons at me. I went to her class teacher and gingerly asked ' V didn't get her book'. She said ' oh her learning journey? (That's what the thick book was called) I have kept it to photocopy. It is just brilliant with you interactions  and I want to keep it as a sample. She is a super star!' I felt proud of course. Happy too. Puzzled as well, God knows how they went through their learning journey? I know the Indian way not the British one.  And I stood facing my first summer vacation.

Couldn't help remembering my last. Yeah the one in 2001, end of first year engineering. I remember packing my bags in hostel and a fellow dorm mate  come up and say - enjoy your last summer vacation. I was perplexed. She read my mind and replied ' next year would be summer training, the next internship and by the end of the 4th year we would be pass outs hopefully in a job. So the last summer vacation.' Boy did that sound depressing. Ironically one did hope for it  - hoped for a good summer training, a good internship and of course a job hence to be seated 9-5 at a desk. Imagine one wished for depression . But the world is not so dank. Work is fun when one rationalises. 

I have been prepping for the summers since a long time. If I can prep for 5 days break and manage a routine, think about my readiness for 6 weeks. I even have this stuck on my wall. We will plan one day at a time expect for the ones already pencilled in. 

Day1 has been good thus far. We have gotten creative and made this.

Chiyaa was hyper for a bit but no scolding or tears touch wood. Well hoping for a more filled up calendar, more works to show off and wonderful summer holidays!

An utterly random post

Disclaimer : This post might not have any semblance of continuity 

A few days back I posted a pic of a cake. A school friend of mine asked if it had been baked by me. I replied 'not in this life'. To which she said ' Yes this life is for reading books and writing'. Which made me think reading is ok, but it's been eons since I wrote anything. So much is happening all around me and my blog is still stuck in the 'towel' post. 

Sticking to towels and swimming, I have started attending classes in the gym. As the public announcement system in the gym says' Group exercises are focused training sessions to energetic music which will give you a much better workout'. I tried one for the heck of it. I chose a female instructor ( God knows why as if a male instructor is going to make me the chosen disciple in the throng of 30 odd gym bodies who really have bodies I think can only be achieved surgically. Seriously I wonder kis chakki ka aata khate hain yeah log? Anyways they might have the unfair advantage of high metabolism, superb genes or might be very bad cooks. Who cares. I got to do what I got to do and try to squeeeeeeeeeeeze into those pre-second-pregnancy clothes. I have not made much progress towards those goals. Ok so coming back to the classes. I took the first one. LBT ahem legs, bums and tums. I loved it. Body sculpt followed soon. Bodypump took some self coaxing but I loved lifting a barbell. I weigh the same, look the same. But I definitely feel better after the classes. I feel entitled to the cake, the cup of Tiramisu and ice cream. I also feel better during the class. I don't dance in public. Wouldn't dance even if thakur from Sholay asked. In the class I let loose. I do the kicks, the burpees, the deadlifts as if no one is watching. My ultimate favourite is the body combat class set to the principles of karate, muay thai, kick boxing and boxing. The punches, elbow jabs, knee jabs, axe kicks are therapeutic. The most liberating is a sequence which feels like the traimer is  making us pulverise an enemy. Two conclusions from the session

1. I totally understand role play gamers. 

2. I believe I am very passive aggressive.

Another aspect which has dominated life has been work. I have been through a cycle of 'assessments and selections' which is a fancy term for cut backs. I managed to keep my job. Phew! We have lost a lot of people in our department. Some voluntarily some compulsorily. Many close friends and peers who were colleagues are now ex-colleagues. With a thinning layer at actual office, my remote working arrangement does not seem so odd now. As I might have mentioned in my previous posts I mostly work remotely, again fancy term for I mostly work from home. Earlier this seemed like a favour from my bosses. But when work kicked in, it seemed harder. It requires a different discipline to constantly work from home. My OCD helps in forcing me to log in, log out and have lunch exactly at 0815, 1630 and 1300 respectively. Pumpki was being minded by Mil at home. The urge to rush into the other room at her slightest cry, the wish to swoop her into my arms at the sound of her cooing and many such instincts got suppressed over time. 

Time has flown. Since the time I set my out of office for being on maternity leave to being through a cycle of assessments and selections to having completed a mid year performance review. 

The weather has improved and everything seems sunny and bright. There are uncertainties looming but hey might as well enjoyed the sunshine.

There is a first time for everything

So as I said I started swimming to try to lose those piling pounds. I try to make it 3 times a week. So yesterday I went in the right earnest. 

I had an early call for which I scooted out of the pool and went for the shower. As I was in there I heard an announcement 'there will be a male staff  in the ladies changing room'. Well... Not to be bothered since I was in the shower and would be able to perfectly avoid the male staff. 

Moments later I heard the fire alarm! Oh dear! I thought might be a mistake which would have set off the alarm. Then I heard the announcement ' the fire alarm is in operation. Please evacuate the facility immediately.' 

OMG! What now! I was a hurricane of thoughts. Shall I complete the shower? But what if there is a real fire? I won't burn if I am in shower.  What about asphyxiation. As many people  die of it  as from actual burns. With all these critical thoughts, I certainly out of the shower and saw the other ladies walking towards the exit. Many is the same state of un-dress as me. 

I thought  of getting dressed. Since I lived close by, I could take a shower back home?  What if someone came in and dragged me out. That would be wayyyy more embarrassing. So I stepped out in the towel. This towel to be precise 

We all stood shivering till everything was reset. We all knew it was a drill. It is always a drill 😉

And I returned home with the most bizarre song in my head 

Yes..only I tend to remember  such b grade bollywood songs. 

Weaning her

P.s. A personal post ahead

Everything with Pumpki  has been tinged with a different emotion. A weird sense of 'this is the last time ever'. It is a very funny feeling. Something a 'practical' person like me would be loathe to accept. 

As with her birth, I felt I missed out on a normal procedure. I was more than over the moon with a healthy child but I took some time to recover from the sense of missing out. My year of maternity leave with Pumpki  went way faster - being coupled with Chiyaa and her school, trip to India and a change of place. Within the blink of an eye it seemed she was one year old! She was walking, protesting, mimicking us in her own distinctive way. As they say ' she was becoming her own person'. 

One point of attachment for her and me was the feeds. She still depended on me. On one hand I was keen for her to get on with solids ( I had heard stories of how weaning got more difficult as the babies got older) but on the other I quite enjoyed the time cradling and feeding her.

Once Amma was here, she took on to feeding her and actively weaning her. With Chiyaa it had been a gradual process since she stopped one feed at a time as she increased her intake of solid food. But Pumpki had never dropped any feeds. So it was quite a drastic measure for both of us. My body was not used to it and neither was she. She protested but gave in slowly. I had some initial discomfort after which my body started getting acclimatised. The first sign of it was the return of the monthly cycles (which I had not missed at all) after one year of sabbatical!  

What remained was weaning at night. She was still taking 2-3 feeds at night. We tried all sorts of bottles, waking her, calming her. But nothing worked. It was defcon red for her. She would blow her bugle at full throttle risking Chiyaa 's sleep. I had even more embarrassing stories of babies not weaned at night. I was on a mission to wean her. I took ideas - ranging from the practical one of 'let daddy handle her totally at night ' to the radical one of' apply something distasteful to ward her'. The practical ones did not fall through because smarty pants knew mummy was around. I had to go for radical. Don't judge me but I tried pudin hara to put off feeding. She cried, she wailed. She fought back like a soldier should if it's defcon red :D I felt like it was a loosing battle. I felt I would live to tell embarrassing stories of my own. Each night K and I would have an 'argument' about the approach. Each night was a failure. Till night six, she just took on to the bottle. Just like that. Seven nights ago, it seemed like forever. It seemed outrageous that a 13 month old was still breast feeding. All it took was six nights and I was missing the proximity. All it  took was six nights and my baby was sitting up and having milk from a bottle. All it took was six nights and she was completely weaned. 

This time my discomfort was way more. I resorted to sage tea and I will highly recommend it to anyone in my state. The discomfort went in a week. But something  more insidious was happening. Breastfeeding burns calories - upto 500 per day. And this miracle was working without me putting in any effort - well consciously. 2 weeks down the weaning, I noticed a plumper face. I attributed it to 'water retention' ;) whatever it may be women attribute a lot to it ;) But then how long would it last? I stepped on the weighing machine and was not happy. Oh well maybe I was gaining muscle mass and muscles weigh more than fat :D I tried on a pair of trousers since a trip to Leeds was in the offing and boy did they not fit. Ones that used to zip through would not go beyond the hips. Enough said - time to join swimming. Since with Chiyaa everything was gradual, it was a gentle transition all around. With dear Pumpki it has been a bit of shock and awe. 

I long holding her at nights, I long to smother her with my kisses and cuddles. As has been with most things around Pumpki, I have given my last feed. 

Your head is in the right place girl!

20th January! I am wedded to K for 9 years! Phew! But the whole world watched this with anticipation..

As did we.  

Chiyaa: (with awe in her voice) " She is so beautiful"

Me: (knowing she is referring to Melania Trump) " Who?"

Chiyaa: She, the one in red!

Me: (with disbelief) You think so! The one on the left?"

Chiyaa: (running to the tv and touching Michelle Obama) "She. She is so beautiful. I think she is a princess!"

I am so proud of you for not sticking with beauty stereotypes. Stay sensible my clever kid!

Creatures of habit

We are amazing creatures of habit aren't we? I am a very jittery traveller. I check, double check the trifecta of essentials - phone, wallet, id card. I check the platform on every available wide screen disbursing that information. I keep an ear on the announcements for the next station in the train. I do not sleep lest I miss my station. I go to great lengths to awaken if I am groggy. The first day of travel I was going through all these motions with the an undercurrent of panic. I didn't like being anxious because it was exhausting. But I couldn't help it. Not only was I on the edge regarding my travel, I was anxious about the state at home too. 

In a day I was 'seasoned'. The next day I was way calmer. The process of letting go had also kicked in and I was not pestering Mil with updates about the kids. The third time around I was on auto pilot. It was unbelievable that I looked at the wide screen displaying information at the entrance of the station only. I did not check it 7 times before getting on the train. In fact I started recognising some regulars. I even labelled a seat as my favourite. On the onward journey, till the first leg I was so engrossed in the book and some other random stuff on the phone, that I realised I was about to reach the station only after I saw a few passengers getting ready to alight. The second leg of the journey I even risked a little nap. The journey was 90 minutes long and I of course had an alarm set.  During the return journey, I did not even look at the platform information. I knew which platform I had to get to! 

My colleagues think I have a very long commute and I spend a lot on it too - a little less than 1/4th of my earnings. But I feel I get to have a job and contribute and maybe have a chance at a long running career. Some friends feel its strenuous and I should maybe opt to stay in Leeds. That way I would get some rest and also a much needed time away from home chores. But I feel, the days I travel, I do nothing at home absolutely. Even if it's 4 times a month, it's a lot for a mom with two kids under 6. I remember travelling with Chiyaa and Pumpki. On all occasions I noticed the travellers without kids. Ladies sipping gin and tonic in the flight or people unencumbered by numerous luggage making the platform changes with a phone in one hand and a coffee in other. I would wistfully think - I would just want to travel without kids. Being far from them, away from them - is not something I would ever want. But just the travel.... I wouldn't mind. I would rather like it. As I always believe be careful what you wish for. In a strange way it has come true for me. I have travel time, away from kids. I am so tired that even a good night's sleep does not recharge me. I feel sluggish till mid morning the next day. But snuggling next to the two brats on other days, I just sigh. Its all worth it. 

Are we not barking up the wrong tree?

Raise your son better if you want your daughter's safety. Like who died and made this the panacea for instilling safety of women ? And what about the women whose peers are sons who have already been raised. Women like my sister, my best friend, me? Ours is a lost cause eh? We have to live in the probable belief that our daughters will be safer? That's tad unfair isn't it?

So women who have borne sons and now have the additional responsibility of raising them well (lucky me with two girls, I can raise them however I like). I feel, the problem lies somewhere else. In my humble opinion these might bring about an iota of difference. 

1. Increase culpability - Eveteasing, molestation, abuse, rape - increase their culpability. And to enforce this increase the culpability of the law enforcement agencies.  A more 'innocent until proven guilty' approach would be helpful in this respect. If a woman can report and see the consequences of her action, every woman will be emboldened. If a man is reported against and faces the consequences, it will set an example to his homies that some actions are illegal. No amount of conscience rapping will do the job. It's a cheap thrill for many. They feel they can do something and get away with it. They do have maa-behen at home. But that lady walking on the steeet or sitting on the window seat is not maa-behen. So with her anything goes. Till - we have the laws to make sure that no, anything does not go. 

3. Police power - 1 cannot be effective if the police force is incompetent without an accountability. Most of the time the police is lethargic when responding to cases of abuse. At other times they engage in victim blaming. Again , both these actions should be culpable offenses.

2. Light it up - Light up the streets, the alleys, the by lanes. The roads that are not too bright, are avoided. But for some that might be the only way home. Lurching in the darkness are the breed of scum for whom abusing is a woman gives them a high. If we shine the light and make cctv cameras rampant there might be some hope. There is a study which states that the consciousness that one is being watched reduces the occurrence of crimes. But then this goes hand in hand with point one. If a crime is committed, make sure that the resources are utilised to bring the perpetrators to book. 

3. Make sex available - well sex is still a taboo. People in India reach puberty around the same time as the rest of the world, but can avail 'sex' mostly after parental consent. If it was more available in the form of an established industry, relationship or even through the medium of toys and appendages - I feel it could bring about a lot of change. If it was a freely discussed subject like dandruff or downloading movies, it would make it much safer for girls. Girls would not be shame faced to tell their parents that the uncle next door brushed against her in a 'weird' way. And there might be a chance to nip it in the bud rather than her waiting to get to college and out of the neighbourhood.

Yes - lot of other things will help. Pepper spray, martial arts and self defence training, a sock filled with an unused bar of soap, presence of mind. Raising your sons right - well it might help.