Our songs

(I am very tired this evening so please forgive my typos)

When you have spent a substantial portion of your adult life with someone, it is difficult to have to be on your own. It is almost like amputating your arm and then going about life without it. K was not just my arm but substantial portion of my emotional being. I have tried to be brave and deal with it but I have moments of complete despair. Songs trigger off tears and so do random memories. Sometimes I keep long hours at work. About a month ago, I left my workplace rather late and was thinking to myself that I should rush home as K would be waiting for me. I rush to my car to realize that I have an empty home to go to. It triggered off a whole set of emotions…sorrow, anger and despair. I cannot express the pain that went through my heart and goes through my being from time to time. It is like taking multiple sharp knives and slowly inserting them simultaneously all over my body. There is no injury or blood but just excruciating pain. I started crying to myself and asked randomly to no particular person; do you even care what is happening to me? That very moment, my radio played Beatles “And I love her”, which was one of our songs. Then it played a few other favorite bands of ours such as Bad Company, CCR, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, etc. My mood changed suddenly to reminiscing about the pleasant memories of our life together. Then suddenly it played Air Supply! From tears I burst out laughing.

When I was in my teens and early twenties, the time before K came into my life. I used to listen to Air Supply. Initially when K was wooing me, he would woo me with food and music. Of course I used to completely ignore him and blow him off. He would be persistent and offer to give my friends and me a ride up to Dadar train station from downtown area of Mumbai. Those of you, who live or have lived in Mumbai, will know how annoying it is to take public transportation during the peak hours. Therefore I would grudgingly go with them because I was too lazy to take the train by myself. I never sat next to K out of spite and would sit in the back seat. It didn’t matter to K as he used to look at this opportunity to strike a conversation with me. He later used to tease me about how I was an “ice maiden” that he had to thaw!

Anyway on our drive through the crazy Mumbai traffic, we used to always listen to the “Sundown show” on the FM radio. They always played great rock music. I remember gradually falling in love with K over the music. My friend, to poke fun at me, told K that I listened to Air Supply and burst out laughing. I had always put up a front of being such a serious professional that I dig mushy music was almost comical to K. I was annoyed as my friend blew my cover. One time they played Air Supply’s “Two less lonely people in the world.” The others started making fun of me, while K looked at me through the rear view mirror and smiled his mischievous smile. The smile was sort of making fun of my choice in music but rather lovingly and indulgently. I glared back at him determined to never take a ride with them and be made fun of. The next song on the radio was Beatles’ “And I love her.” My eyes met K’s through the rear view mirror and he gave me the sweetest smile. That smile melted my heart and that was the moment I fell in love with the love of my life! Today all I have are memories of the glorious time we spent together. I will always LOVE you my dearest K. You taught me what true love is all about!

Surviving K

It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. That may be true however it is painful when death takes away the one you loved the most. I lost K, the love of my life, more than a month ago. I am devastated would be an understatement. However I thought to myself that life throws difficult circumstances at you. There are two options available, one is to get completely devastated and whither your life away while the other is to pick up the broken pieces of your life and move on. The former is easy while the latter is rather difficult. I have decided to choose the latter one. I have moments of complete despair interspersed with moments of love and hope. Most of all, I am trying to not lose track of my dreams. Tragedy took away the most important person of my life but nothing can take away the love we shared or the happy memories in this 14 year old marriage.

K died of sudden cardiac arrest. It was so shocking that I had a sense of calmness around me. K and I used to pray to Shakti and especially to Mahalakshmi. I have had tremendous faith in her. That fateful night after I called 911, in despair I was screaming for help and in anger said to her, “Do you even care about me and what I am going through?” That very moment an elderly woman walked towards me and asked me if I needed CPR. I asked her how did she know and she said that her daughter heard my screams. Anyway she came into my home and tried to revive K. The 911 team and first aid squad arrived and took K to the hospital. By that time I had come to terms with the fact that the love of my life may not come back to me. I had lost all my faith and was very angry. I even decided to leave Hinduism and convert to Buddhism to try to comprehend pain and suffering.

The other day as I was reliving the moments of that fateful night, I realized that this elderly woman came to my door walking. I don’t live in Manhattan but in suburban Jersey. What are the odds of people walking? Also the old lady claimed to be living two houses down but it has been more than a month since the tragedy but I have never seen her again! I then remembered that it is said that whenever Mahalakshmi comes to help her devotees, she comes in the form of an old woman! It reinstated my faith and the fact that K’s life on this planet was limited. All of us come with a plan and all of us have to leave. There is nothing we could do to change it. However K died in his own home and with the one who loved him. He died suddenly so it was not painful! I find comfort in that fact because I would not have wanted him to suffer indignities of being incapacitated.

K’s funeral was very intimate and very private. Hindu ceremonies are very morbid. I didn’t want K’s to be that way. I wanted the ceremony to celebrate his life. I had a ceremony with a priest, who actually has a PhD in Physics. It was true to K’s spirit as although he was a Hindu he didn’t believe in the ritualistic aspect of Hinduism. He was more spiritual. I would like to share the eulogy that I wrote for his funeral ceremony. It captures the gist of who K was as a person. The eulogy is as follows:

K’s name in Sanskrit means someone who sees beauty in everything. It also means someone who has beautiful eyes. Your eyes are a window to your soul. K’s eyes reflected the beauty in his soul.

K as all of you know was an exceptionally kind and generous person. He had such a calm and peaceful disposition that one always felt comforted in his aura. At least I did ever since I met him that day in December 1993. We met when I had just finished architecture school and had started working at his father’s ex-partner’s office. They say opposites attract and it was certainly true in our case. He was extremely shy and quiet while I just cannot shut up!

We became the closest friends. Actually we bonded over our mutual love for crossword puzzles that we would solve over the lunch hour. Most men woo their women with flowers and chocolates, K, however, did with food. K always encouraged and supported everything I did. He was a great son to his parents and a great brother to his siblings and cousins.

K was a second son to my parents after my older sister’s husband. My parents always said that they didn’t lose two daughters but gained two sons. K brought joy and happiness in our lives. He came suddenly in my life and left as suddenly on February 24, 2011. He brought joy and bliss for the 17 years that I knew him. He taught me what selfless love was all about so in many ways he guided me.

As all of you know he was reserved, however as some of you know he had a WICKED sense of humor. Therefore although my loss is irreplaceable, we must celebrate his life! K loved life too much and as his best friend Ganesh would agree, K would have said right now in a thick south Indian accent, “What to do? What to do? Enjoy only, no.”

Perception and Reality

When I started my architecture school I had a lot of trepidation. I was 17 almost 18 years old at that time and had heard my school, although one of the best in India had a reputation for being very bohemian. I led a very sheltered and protected life almost verging on being smothered by my very overbearing mother. I always had my own personality and was very independent but you always are led to believe that your mother knows the best. So on my first day in school, I was pretty nervous and intimidated. I believe that there is safety in numbers so I hung out with a bunch of girls to avoid getting hazed by the second year students. Hazing or “Ragging” as they called in India was a part of the process of being welcomed into professional schools across the country.

My school had a substantial student population from other parts of India so we had two distinct groups, one who was from Mumbai and the rest was from all over the country. I being very talkative and friendly and also being especially talkative when I am nervous went around introducing myself. At that time, across the room I saw a very tall dark guy looking lost and a little out of place. He didn’t look Indian and looked very African. I could sense that he was a little sad, lonely and looked a little lost. I thought I might introduce myself to him. So I walked up to him and said, “Hi I am Sai.” He said, “Hi my name is MM.” So I asked him which part of the world he belonged to and he replied that he was from one of the countries in East Africa. At that moment, two other women walked over and introduced themselves. We asked him a lot of questions and welcomed him to India and to feel free to ask us if he needed anything from us. I had never met a person from Africa before and I was fascinated by his culture. I remember asking him questions about his language, what his name meant etc. I am a xenophile so I was thrilled to meet someone who was from a different culture and nationality.

India is a very racist country and makes no apologies about it. An average Indian is complacent in his or her biases. One could attribute that to centuries of casteism and exclusionary behavior of Hindus. However I think the underlying reason is ignorance and fear based upon perception. I remember one of my classmates telling me after she saw me talking to MM that I should avoid talking to “that African guy as who knows what mischief he might be up to.” Then she said that I might get a reputation as being easy. I remember being livid and completely infuriated about people making assumptions based upon their ignorant perceptions. To date I have not been able to comprehend the fact that how do people develop these “reputations”?

After my fourth year and before beginning my final year architecture, I had gone to New Delhi with a bunch of classmates to conduct research for my final year thesis in the summer vacation. I was at the School of Architecture and Planning’s library in New Delhi when by chance I bumped into MM. He had come to New Delhi straight from his country's capital and didn’t know his classmates were there too. He was very happy to see me as he felt like he “saw family in this strange place.” At that time he told me that he might have to take a break of six months from school as his mother was diagnosed with cancer and he didn’t want to be far from home. I remember feeling terrible for him. He was going to be in Mumbai for a week and then fly back home. I came home to Mumbai and wanted to invite him to my place for dinner as I thought he must be missing his home. I asked my mother if I could invite him home. She asked me if I were inviting him with a group of other people. I said that there was no one around as it was summer vacation and that I wanted to just invite him alone. My mother, being the overprotective and overbearing parent that she was, said that she had no problem if he were coming in a group but didn’t want me to invite a guy just by himself! I told her that I thought she was being ridiculous. Then she said, “When you get married, invite him to your husband’s home.” That was the end of the argument. To date I cannot rationalize my mother’s reasoning! If I wanted to do something that she didn’t approve she would end the argument with “do that at your husband’s home.” I must say that I have married a great guy and have been able to do whatever I please at my "husband’s home”!

MM did come back to school and completed his final year with us. Upon completion of our graduation, MM was leaving India to go to London for a bit. I bumped into him on my way home from school. We were excited about graduating and were talking animatedly outside my school’s campus about our career goals and what we were planning to do. I was oblivious to the fact that people were staring at him and at me as well until some random person commented to me in Marathi, “Have all the Indian men died that a woman of your stature is talking to this African.” He actually used a derogatory word to describe my friend, which made my blood boil. This random comment was from a puny five foot tall man who looked barely literate. I was livid and almost wanted to smack this person across his face. MM was blissfully unaware, as he didn’t understand Marathi, and continued telling me about his future plans. I didn’t want him to know about this hateful comment so I did not show any emotion and continued talking to him. We planned to stay in touch but of course that never happened as life takes over. This was prior to the internet days when you really had to make an effort to stay in touch with people.

Years later, I read this article about racism in India as seen by an African-American PhD student staying in New Delhi for a bit. This article reminded me of this above incident. I remembered my classmate who was so young when he came to India. Recently thanks to Facebook and my alumni network, I renewed contacts with MM again. After living in the United States for the past ten years, I am more sensitive about a foreigner’s experience in my country. Therefore I asked MM to give me an honest opinion about India and if he enjoyed living in India. He said that he enjoyed his experience very much as all of his classmates were very supportive. He said that he always remembered me and three of my classmates as the ones who welcomed him on his first day. However outside this comfortable cocoon there were not many Indian people who were nice to him and it was based upon their negative perceptions about his continent and their people. As it is with all perceptions, it was far removed from reality. I suppose he decided to take that in his stride and enjoy his experience nevertheless. He has fond memories and considers India as his second home. He wants to return to India and travel to explore the country and to places that he couldn’t visit when he was living there. I suppose MM is a great person and also we were very protective of him so didn’t let him know the mean and hateful things some ignoramuses said about him.

I have to say that the author of the article is right when he concludes, “In most nations, the path of ending gender, race and class discrimination is unpaved. In India, this path is still rural and rocky as if this nation has not decided the road even worthy. It is a footpath that we are left to tread individually.”

Loss and Relationships

As always I had called to speak to my parent’s on Friday night. It was Saturday morning in India. From the tone of my mother’s voice I realized that something was wrong.. She however was assuring me that everything was fine. I goaded her until she finally told me that she had terrible news for me. I asked if she, my father and my sisters were all right. She assured me that they were fine but that my cousin who was in his mid thirties had passed on. It was my father’s older brother’s child. In fact my father’s older brother himself passed on when this child was a toddler.

My father’s family is very close knit and it includes the extended family as well. I have vague memories of my uncle as I was very young when he passed on. I do remember though that he was extremely mild mannered and the most gentle soul I ever knew. Unfortunately he was not as smart as my father. My father and his two cousins were overachievers and therefore were very successful. My uncle on the other hand barely finished high school and didn’t graduate from college. Unfortunately he made a lot of wrong decisions, which I remember used to pain my father. It was especially so as my father didn’t have his parents then. My father always tried to help him but somehow no matter how much you try to help others, it is unsuccessful unless the recipient takes it upon themselves to improve their life. When my uncle passed on, I remember how my father had cried to mourn the loss of his loved one. He must have thought that he was alone but he wasn’t. I, being very nosy, had snooped and was shocked to see this display of raw emotion from a person who always internalizes his emotions. That incident is etched in my memory.

All through my life, I always felt affection for my uncle’s family. I always thought that this particular branch of my father’s family was cursed. After my uncle’s passing his widow didn’t keep in touch with us. My uncle was previously married but had lost his two wives and this was his third marriage. The children from his first two marriages kept in touch with us. They were much older than my sisters and I but we had established a strong bond with them. The children from this marriage however weren’t close to us at all. That being said, I feel really sorry for the mother who lost not only her husband but her child. It is tragic but none of her children survived. All of them went into adulthood and died one after the other. She has outlived all of them. I cannot but imagine what must be going through her mind!

The last time I saw this cousin was 20 years ago when my older sister got married. He was very artistic. He had very shyly showed me his painting and I was surprised to know that he was left handed like me! So there was a feeling of affection because we are of the same blood but no memory beyond this one. Yet I feel sad for the loss of life. I feel sad for the hardships that he endured in his short life. As per my Hindu beliefs I do realize that it is everyone’s karma. They say that when you are born, it is predetermined as to what your life is going to be. However I believe in the law of probability that nothing is set in stone. Life gives you options and you make those choices. The choices you make and the end results is what your destiny eventually turns out to be. I think fate cruelly took away this life even before he got to live it.

I would like to end this post by quoting two verses or couplets (called shlokas in Sanskrit ; the liturgical language of Hinduism and Buddhism) from the Bhagavad Gita related to death:

"The soul is never born nor dies at any time. Soul has not come into being, does not come into being, and will not come into being. Soul is unborn, eternal, ever-existing and primeval. Soul is not slain when the body is slain."

"As a human being puts on new garments, giving up old ones, the soul similarly accepts new material bodies, giving up the old and useless ones."

Happy Independence Day

It has been ten years today since I left my home to start my life in the United States. I chose to leave on my country’s Independence Day as it was very poignant to me. I was looking for my personal freedom to lead my life the way I want to; therefore leaving India on August 15^th made a lot of sense to me. The weeks prior to my departure day were rather hectic. I was wrapping up all my professional commitments before making this move. I had also fallen sick so was faced with challenges from all directions. I was very pre-occupied and didn’t have time to think. Therefore I did not realize that I am moving so far from home that I will not be able to see my family and most importantly my spouse for a pretty long time. At that time my frustration with situations in my life was so overwhelming that this really didn’t seem to matter to me.

Due to my illness, I was convalescing at my parents home so I was not able to see K for a very long time. In the interim K was helping me organize stuff and would always tease me, “You will meet new people and forget about me. Perhaps even leave me?” I would laugh at him and joke, “Yes that is my plan…to go there to get away from you!” My mind was so occupied with unfinished tasks that I did not take a moment to realize that I was not only being insensitive in my smart aleck comments but the truth of the matter was that I would miss K too.

Ten years ago airport security in India was not as crazy as today but definitely far more stringent than pre-September 11 America. That particular day however it was worse than the security that we have today. The day being our Independence Day, there was a terrorist bomb scare at Mumbai’s International Airport. My flight was supposed to depart at 1:45AM but knowing the crowd we decided to be there at least three and a half hours before departure. As soon as we reached there, we were told that only the person traveling could go in the lobby. Anyone accompanying would have to leave. So that was it for K and me! That moment it hit me hard that I was actually not going to see K for at least a year. He had promised to visit at the end of the academic year. He couldn’t make it during Christmas and I was not sure if I would be able to as well. That very moment I had tears in my eyes as I realized I had grown to be so attached and dependent on K in our three odd years of married life. K laughed and said, “Are those tears of joy as you are happy to get away from me.” Must say, it was not a great time to make such jokes as upon hearing that comment the tears kept streaming down relentlessly.

I asked K if we should request the cops to let him stay for an hour till I left for my security check etc. K looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. I was a woman on a mission and completely irrational. Therefore I walked up to the cops and asked them in Marathi, “I heard you are not allowing anyone except those with valid tickets to go in. Is that correct?” The person said, “Yes.” I showed the person my paper work and said, “This is my husband and I won’t see him for a year. Would you mind, if he sat with me for at least an hour till I leave.” The cop looked at his supervisor for an answer. Then I read the supervisor’s name and said that I was a fellow Maharashtrian and probably of the same caste as him…then I again requested if he could let him sit with me. My caste and ethnicity card totally worked in this instance. The supervisor reluctantly agreed and said, “I might lose my job for this but I can understand how difficult it is for you. Yes, I will allow him but you will have to be within our sight.” So K and I sat in the lobby under the watchful eyes of the cops and within their earshot. K thought it was ridiculous as being a very shy person; this made him extremely self conscious. We sat there for an hour holding hands and not speaking to each other. Our marriage was fairly new…only three years and few months old so we realized that it was a trying time for both of us. However we didn’t let such negative thoughts bother us. Today it has been ten years since I came here and sixty three years since India made her Tryst with Destiny as blogged here. My road in our new adopted country has had its bumps but K and I have been together dealing with it.

Bitter-Sweet memories

Sometimes life puts challenges in front of you and you have to deal with those. If you succumb to the pressure and cannot deal with it then you are weak. The more you face them, the stronger you get. There is a proverb in Sanskrit that brass and gold both glisten, so what is the difference between the two? When put to test under intense heat, brass burns but gold becomes even brighter.

This month marks my ten years in this country. I came to the United States in August 2000 to pursue my graduate studies at the University of Michigan. In my mind this year was a breakthrough, as for the first time in my life I realized my self-worth. When I came here, I was an architect who had practiced for a few years and I was a wife. Most importantly I was extremely attached to my family so it was difficult for me to leave them along with my husband in India. Yes, it was my ambition to pursue further education but I was also facing some difficulties in India. It has been ten years and I have moved on so I will not use this blog for anything negative.

Sustaining a happy and healthy marriage is always work in progress. Sometimes you have your great days and many other times you don’t. K and I have been together for many years. Today I would say our relationship has reached a level of understanding, mutual respect and comfort. This period of separation, I would say, was the most trying period of our life. I have saved all the emails that we have exchanged and I read them from time to time. They remind me of the hardships and the uncertainties we faced then. Most importantly they remind me of how our mutual respect and trust helped us sustain this relationship! There are times when I get very annoyed with K, and reading those emails makes me realize how valuable his presence is in my life.

I came here sometime in August 2000 and started rooming with two other women. K had warned me about sharing an apartment with strangers as I had not done that before and it is especially difficult if one is married and has had her own home. I didn’t want to live alone in a foreign country and preferred Indian roommates because of the shared ethnicity. NOT A GREAT IDEA! Within two days I realized that I was so naïve and lived such a sheltered life in India. I used to miss K a lot and felt very insecure that he might just leave me. I wanted to go back to India and hold on to my life there. I had such conflicting emotions, on one hand I wanted to realize my dreams, but on the other I wanted to hold on to my personal life as well. This was before Skype and Reliance India service so it was expensive communicating with him in India. We still managed to speak three to four times a week.

My cousin and his wife, who live in Chicago, took it upon themselves to help me set up the apartment. I showed them around the beautiful campus. My cousin’s wife, a Ph.D in Physics and a stay at home mom at that time, realized how sad and lonely I looked. She advised that I should enjoy being a student again as very few Indian women, especially married ones, got such an opportunity. She said that not everyone had supportive spouses like I did. Actually that statement made it worse for me as it fed on my insecurity that my supportive spouse could potentially leave me…out of sight and out of mind!

My cousin’s family and I had a picnic at Gallup Park, which is Ann Arbor’s most popular recreation area. My cousin’s mother, i.e. my father’s brother’s widow, was visiting from India so was with us as well. My uncle had passed on a few months prior to that. After lunch my cousin and his wife took the kids bike riding while I sat with my aunt quietly enjoying the bucolic landscape. She asked me how I was faring and I said I was well but missed India and K. Suddenly she burst into tears and I held her close. She is a lady of few words but I realized that she must be missing my late uncle. The last time she was here, he was with her and now she was alone. That is the time I realized that although K and I were separated by two continents and a 10.5 hour difference we were still able to communicate with each other. For the first time I realized how difficult it must have been for her to be alone after 40 odd years of togetherness. My trepidations and worries seemed so trivial then. I realized that I was indeed given an opportunity to do what I wanted to do and that I should make the most out of it instead of imagining the worst! It is weird that I am writing about this now. It is just that I happened to read one of my old emails and all these memories came flooding back.

Is ethnicity an essential ingredient in successful relationships?

Yesterday I had dinner with one of my very dear friends; let’s call her “A.” A is of Indian descent but was born and raised here in the United States. Her parents moved to the United States in the 60s, so left behind an image or their idea of India. India, however, has progressed by leaps and bounds since the 1960s; therefore their idea of the subcontinent seems so obsolete today. She is very fluent in Marathi but her speech is more reflective of her parents’ generation than hers! Her parents are her connection to India and all things Indian. She speaks chaste Marathi and it is comical when she uses words that are so reflective of my parent’s generation in her very American accent!

She has an MBA in Finance from one of the top business schools in the US. She lives on the West Coast and was here for two business meetings, one in Philly and the other in NYC. In between those meetings she found time to have dinner with yours truly. There is nothing like hanging out with your girlfriends and having great conversations. She is still single, which is quite a huge deal in the Indian community. Now no matter how liberal ones parents are and no matter how independent one is, they still want their children to get married within the set parameters. Risking broad generalization I would like to add that with Indian parents it is usually a “nice Indian boy or a girl” in their twenties. This then transforms to pleas of “please get married” when the children cross into their mid thirties.

Yesterday she mentioned to me about how her parents tried to set her up with some friend’s son and she was regaling me with stories of their very disastrous first date! She was complaining about not meeting the right kind of a guy. She was on the various Indian dating websites and she was thoroughly disappointed with the kind of men she was meeting. Her biggest peeve was most of the American born Indian men that she met were so bloody confused about their identity that it annoyed her to no end. According to her they try too hard to not associate with anything related to their parents culture. Additionally, quite a few of them were looking for action while she is looking for commitment. The Indian born and raised men, especially in her field of finance, are incredibly smart but socially retarded! I couldn’t but laugh at her broad generalization and told her so.

She then told me about how her mother took her to one of the social gatherings during this business trip in the hope that she could “arrange” a match for my friend. She relayed her mother's exact words while introducing her to the group. The words reflected the so called subservience that was traditionally expected from a girl child’s parents in a patriarchal society. It took me to the time when I had just finished architecture and my mother wanted to get me married. This was the time before I met and fell in love with K. My mother had a very different tone when she would try to set me up. When I used to protest, my mother said that she has to play this game and that I will never understand. I used to always get annoyed because I felt that I was as smart and educated as the guys she was trying to set me up with. If a guy as smart as I is considered a “catch” then why am I not the same? Today I am far more independent than I was then and I still don’t understand the logic. It is inconceivable for me to be subjected to something like my friend.

My friend is a very successful professional. In fact her earnings alone must have qualified her for the special tax breaks during the Bush era. Now if she were a man, then she would be considered a “catch." Perhaps many women would have wanted to be the trophy wife! Why is that rule not applicable to successful men? She is extremely bright, very attractive and very nice person but most men get intimidated by her success.

She has dated American guys in the past but she always felt that they never quite understood the Indian culture. Therefore she wants to marry someone who is from India or whose parents are from India. She is well traveled and very cosmopolitan in her outlook that this really surprised me. What is her idea of Indian culture? I never viewed her as an Indian but as my American friend because that is who she is. Apart from the United States, she has lived in London and Zurich; therefore she has never lived in India. Her idea of India is based upon her childhood summers in the country. The last time she was in India was three years ago. What is Indian about her except her name and skin tone? In fact a few of my friends from India have American spouses and very successful relationships. Therefore I do not agree that ethnicity is a necessary ingredient to make the perfect relationship dish!

Maharanis: Not a Book Review

A few weeks ago I happened to learn that Rajmata Gayatri Devi, the dowager Maharani of the erstwhile princely state of Jaipur, passed on at a ripe old age of 90. She was acclaimed for her beauty and her charity work. I, of course, came to know of her existence by serendipity. I was 12 years old then and was down with measles. I had had to miss a fortnight of school and was confined to my bed, which was quite an annoyance for my hyper energetic personality. One afternoon, my mother, handed me a copy of "A Princess Remembers," which are the memoirs of Maharani Gayatri Devi. I remember being struck by her beauty and completely enraptured by her life. Therefore in my mind, I associate the personality with the book that had fascinated the imagination of a young girl on the threshold of puberty. Years later, a month before leaving to come to the United States, I fell ill. I was married then but still wanted to convalesce at my parent's home. Therefore for three weeks I was staying with my parents. One afternoon, I stumbled across this forgotten book and picked it up to read it. As an adult I read the book and could discern that it was a sugar coated, one sided account of her life as she saw it. Clearly it wasn't a very objective account as she had tried to present the darker side in the best possible light. Of course one would attribute it to her grace and dignity rather than viewing life through rose-tinted glasses.

I have been wanting to read "Maharanis" by Lucy Moore since a very long time. Finally I got around to reading it. To me this was a third person account of their lives therefore would be objective. This book traces the life of Maharani Gayatri Devi, her mother and her two grandmothers. It is a fascinating story of four extraordinary women who lived their lives during the waning years of the British Empire and the Indian Princely States. It is a wellknown fact that Gayatri Devi's grandfather the Maharajah of Baroda was a great man who worked for betterment of his subjects and reforming his state. He was a fierce critic of the British and has always been hailed as a nationalist. He was one of the few, if not the only, ruler of a princely state to openly support the Indian National Congress. Unlike his contemporaries he was not given to leading a licentious life full of excesses. His daughter, Gayatri Devi's mother, became a widow at thirty. However, contrary to Indian societal norms, she did not resign to living an austere life of a widow but instead ruled on behalf of her minor son. She was in fact a merry widow nicknamed by her friends as Maharani of couche partout a parodized version of her title Maharani of Cooch Behar. It also speaks about her two grandmothers, Chimnabai of Baroda and Sunity Devi of Cooch Behar who are potrayed as strong women. They strived for women's education and emancipation. They were married to men different in character, the former was married to Sayaji a nationalist and faithful man (a rarity in that class), while Nripendra an overt Anglophile with a roving eye. The Baroda and Cooch Behar prince and princesses were educated abroad, the sons apparently did not possess strength of character and were given to alcoholism while the daughters were strong and wilful. Gayatri Devi became the third wife of the Maharajah of Jaipur, a handsome polo player whose first two wives were political alliances. She marries him for love and grows from a young girl in awe of her husband's larger than life personna to becoming a politican and celebrity in her own right.

It is full of anecdotes as well as historic accounts of the current events occuring simultaneously in India's struggle for freedom. It highlights the fact that how British used the princely states for their machinations to spread and continue their imperial power over the subcontinent, and completely disregarded the princely states during the process of transferring power to India.

It is an interesting account of these four extraordinary women who broke the tradition of purdah (being veiled and not seen in public) and used their position to better the lives of the less privileged. Their lives were extraordinary with immense luxury juxtaposed with harsh reality and tragedies that really made them human. They experienced extreme joy along with such tragic events. One would think that such a position of priviledge made the male members ill-equipped to deal with the sea of change that was occuring within the Indian subcontinent. Those who follow Indian history must be well aware of the horrors of Emergency and the dark period of Indira Gandhi's rule in which democratic values were held to ransom. This book reveals that aspect as experienced by Gayatri Devi who was then into active politics and in opposition to Mrs. Gandhi. These two women, born into priviledged backgrounds, two years apart and studied together in Shantiniketan, had a strong dislike for each other. However they were bound by the tragic events that occured in their lives. When Mrs. Gandhi lost her son to an airplane accident, Gayatri Devi with all her grace and dignity called her to offer her condolences, which were not accepted by Mrs. Gandhi. It speaks volumes about their individual personalities; grace of one and the petty-minded behavior of the other.

This book traverses across three centuries; the nineteenth, twentieth and the beginning of the twenty-first,and chronologically traces the lives of these four extraordinary women and their families. This book is an interesting read, however it is not a testament to feminism. These women were in privileged positions and were therefore an exception than the norm. The majority of women in the country did not afford the luxury of freedom of choice.

Being Left Handed

I am left handed and as you may very well know that people like me are in the minority. We are only 10 percent. It can be a handicap if you are not ambidextrous. As my mother is left-handed, she has trained me to use my right hand as well. I use my left hand to write but can operate machinery or equipment with my right hand therefore I don't face that much a handicap as other left handed people.

It has been reported that the gene most closely linked to left-handedness has been found. HURRAH!!! Now we, the minority, can peacefully continue our lives but wait a minute....the article also says the gene, called LRRTM1, is also associated with a slight increase in developing certain mental illnesses such as schizophrenia. Didn't we have enough negativity associated with being left handed to learn something additional? I do find relief in the fact that we are not living the 18th and 19th centuries where there were prejudices associated with being left handed! Can you imagine adding left handedness to the other prejudices that still exist in today's world like race, religion, and sexual orientation? Of course the research further states that there is no cause for alarm and that there are many other factors contributing to schizophrenia than being just left-handed. In addition, Australian research published last year states that left handers can think faster than right handed people. Furthermore left handers are able to multi-task, which is an ability I always thought came with being a woman than being left handed.

All my life I have had this experience where say for example I had to write an exam, I would have to request for a desk which wasn't against the wall to my left. When I started using computers in the early nineties, especially the AutoCAD program in DOS (do you remember the dark ages before Windows), it took me a while to get used to a right handed mouse. With the advent of Windows 95, there was an option available to adjust the mouse for left handed people but by that time I had already got used to the right hand one. So one adjusts to life and learns to live with their left handedness. I have lost count of the number of times when random people have mentioned to me, "Oh....you are left handed?" I have always felt like responding, thanks for noticing as I have never realized that typically others don't write with their left hand.

Yesterday I had a meeting with seven people to discuss work. Six of us were left handed. The one person who was right handed was our client and was using our professional service and diverse expertise! Funnily none of us noticed that the others were left handed till the client pointed out that he was a minority in a group of left handed people and that this assured him that he is dealing with a bunch of bright people. To this comment my only response is that appearances are deceptive and there is little utility in stereotyping because I am a complete dolt who piggy-backs on my rather intelligent counterparts!

First Female President

I was supposed to write this post yesterday but got home rather late last night. I am quite tired hence please forgive my typos and probably grammatical errors.

Those who are from India and those who aren't but read newspapers must be aware that yesterday, Pratibha Patil took reins as the first female President of the country. This is a landmark as next month, on August 15th, India will complete 60 years of independence. Last night Jay Leno made a crack about this by saying that India has the first female President and George W called India not to congratulate her but that he had a computer query. It is funnier when Leno says this than I recollecting and typing the punch line.

First of all the role of the President of India is largely ceremonial based on the model of the British monarchy. On the other hand the Prime Minister is elected by the electorate. Our first female Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, was elected in 1966. She was in power from 1966 till her brutal assasination in 1984, except of course the dark era of Emergency and the subsequent change in rule. So there is no big deal that there is a woman President. Does anyone even remember who all the President's were since the first President, Rajendra Prasad and the last President A P J Abdul Kalam? So incidentally this position is largely ceremonial and if I may say so, a token post. In fact this particular nomination has been riled with controversies as well which I don't want to get into especially since I am a simpleton with no aptitude for politics.

The BBC website states that her supporters suggested Mrs Patil's election would prove to be a landmark for women in a country where millions routinely face violence, discrimination and poverty. I take an exception to this assumption that this would empower women as incidentally India is a culture which worships women. There is this concept of worshipping Lakshmi (Goddess of wealth) and that a birth of a girl child should be treated like the arrival of Lakshmi in the parent's home and the newly wed bride is called "Griha Lakshmi" as she brings wealth into the house of the in-laws. Yet in parts of the country sex selection is being practiced where female foetuses are being aborted and there are dowry deaths as well. There are laws to protect women yet they are treated as secondary citizens. Therefore as this exalted status of women is just a token and not practised therefore it is hard to believe that a token female President would change this in any way and would aid in empowering women. Most importantly the status of women did not change drastically since the election of the first female Prime Minister 41 years ago!

PS: I would also like to note that India is a paradox and it would be incorrect to paint it with broad strokes of generalization. The status of women is more a socio economic situation which is not going to change overnight! Also women in urban and upper middle class situations are most certainly not disadvantaged or face the proverbial glass ceiling. Case in point being CEOs like Anu Aga, Lalita Gupte of ICICI etc.

Surviving in a man's world

I am in a profession which is predominantly male. Of course my previous avatar as an architect was essentially in a male-dominated profession in a country which is perceived in the West as typically patriarchal. I have never felt limited or conscious of my gender at all. Perhaps this could be due to the fact that growing up my father was such a positive influence in my life. I owe a lot of things to him and have always been a daddy’s girl. He always made me believe that I can achieve whatever I wanted and that nothing mattered as long as I was determined and worked hard.

When I started working as an architect in India, I was the only female professional in my office. There were other women there but they were support staff. After a year of working, I was given my own project to manage. Of course this came to me by default. The firm had moved to this very swanky office building that the architect was building. When the building was almost complete, his eccentric associate moved there on site with just one draftsman and two architects, which included me. The remaining staff was at the old office. One morning the architect needed someone to quickly design something for the client based on his concept sketch. I volunteered to do it and worked non-stop to complete it. I had the drawings ready by about 8:30PM in the office, two hours after the normal office hours, when the architect walked in. He was surprised to see that apart from the cleaning people, I was the only one working and that the rest of his staff had gone home. Before that the architect always thought that I was killing time working for some pocket money till my parents got me married! So when he realized that I was serious about my career, he offered me this project to manage. Before that I had worked for him for a year and he didn't even know my name!

It was a substantial sized project for me as a young architect but rather small for him because he is an eminent architect in India and his clientele included who’s who from the country. I had to deal with a lot of bias on site because they were not used to taking directions from a woman, especially someone so young. One day the client, being a very traditional Indian man, complained about the fact that my boss was sending a “mere woman” to the site. My boss was furious and gave him an earful about his gender bias and told him that I was better than the ten male architects in his office! Of course since the architect's name and projects have a lot of prestige associated with it, he pretty much dictated terms to his clients no matter who they were. Therefore this particular client had no choice but to accept me as the project architect. Later the client was proved wrong and funnily wanted me to mentor his “poor little rich girl” daughter who wasn’t motivated in life, which is a totally different story. Anyway I was furious at that time, for one because I was in my twenties and had led a very sheltered life and didn’t know what gender bias was until then.

Later I married K, who like my father has always let me be and we have a relationship based on equality. I had completely forgotten about this incident until last morning. I am in the U.S. for the past seven to eight years, two of which were spent in graduate school. I currently have a female boss. Incidentally she is a year younger than me, has had an Ivy League education and is incredibly smart. A client complained to her that he didn’t want me to work on his project and preferred a male who wasn’t a foreigner! She was livid and told the person that how dare he make such lame comments to her and that he had no choice in the matter. She told him that I was not just qualified to work on the project but was in fact over-qualified. She told him that he had no credibility and to not waste her time with such nonsense! When she told me what transpired, this time around I was not livid at all but felt pity for the man. In fact I burst out laughing at his ignorance and even made jokes at his expense. I have reached a conclusion that no matter where you go in the world there will always be losers like that who unfortunately make a fool of themselves by putting their foot in their mouths. Such people deserve pity or perhaps not pity as much as a kick in some place rather painful!

American Idol

I do not watch American Idol and didn't really care about the show. I do know, however, that American Idol makes an excellent water fountain conversation. The other day at my workplace, I saw a group of people discussing American Idol and complaining about the guy “Sunjee.” Someone wondered where the hell did the name “Sunjee” come from while some other person corrected the others and said that it was “Sanjaaya.” Someone else noticed me and nudged the others and they all dispersed with sheepish grins. I was really curious and wanted to know who this “Sunjee” guy was and therefore that evening tuned in to watch American Idol. I found that "Sunjee" is Sanjaya Malakar. How come there is no big hoopla about him with the desi tabloids, who pretty much cover anything about the desi diaspora in North America?

I thought that Sanjay Malakar was Maharastrian because a lot of Maharashtrian last names have the suffix “kar” which basically translates as “belonging to,” and it is generally a certain village. Like the legendary Indian singer Lata Mangeshkar or the legendary cricketers “Gavaskar” and “Tendulkar,” who all are incidentally Mumbaikar like yours truly. His sister, who also auditioned for the show, is named Shyamali which is another very common Maharashtrian name. Enquiring minds wanted to know so just to be certain; I did some sleuthing to find that he is not a maharashtrian but a bengali from his father’s side. Who knew? Anyway the guy cannot sing to save his life but I think is surviving on the show because of the appeal he has with teenage girls all over the United States.

As an Indian I have been asked a lot of stupid questions from random people like,
“Don’t women get beaten a lot by their husbands in your country like when they don’t get dowry and all?”

I have answered in the past, “No not really but we have a day in the Hindu calendar called “Punchami” which is celebrated nationally as a day where women get punched by men. Men randomly target women, not necessarily their wives and beat them black and blue.”

To my non-Hindu readers Punchami is indeed a day in the Hindu Calendar and means the fifth day after the waxing or waning moon and has got nothing to do with getting punched!

“Don’t women like always wear a red dot?”

I have answered, “Yes they do but only on days they are seeing red.”

These days I don’t have the patience to come up with creative answers and tell people that Wikipedia is a good resource for finding information and “google search” is another useful tool as well.

Therefore I was asked the other day, “Wow that Sanjay Malakar is hawt….like… are all Indian guys hot?” I had a half mind to tell her to check the Edison area in New Jersey and find out for herself!

I told K that it was such a welcome relief to see a lousy but hawt Indian singer on primetime television than seeing perverted desis getting caught at a sting operation, on NBC’s “How to Catch a Predator?”

PS: I am hooked on to Idol now. It is not for the show but to see for how long the miracle that lets Sanjay move on from one level to the other lasts!

Random Thoughts and a Painting

Last year I picked up painting after a hiatus of six years. I painted very regularly during the entire spring and summer season. I was planning to start oil painting this spring. I can spend hours painting and totally lose myself to that imaginary world. I paint my feelings, anger, frustration and passion. Sometimes I paint my innermost feelings that I cannot articulate in words but it is well articulated in colors and forms. Now those of you who know me are going to start laughing because I talk non-stop, sometimes sense but most of the times nonsense. Anyway I am glad my livelihood doesn’t depend on this because I would have been starving right now. The last painting I did was way back in November of last year.

As I had mentioned earlier I have started a new job and one of the administrative staff member is an accomplished artist. She holds exhibitions and even takes commissions. She has a day job because that offers her a steady income, health and other benefits like 401K. I could go on about health care issues and retirement issues faced by the aging population but then that defeats the purpose of my blog, which is to be irreverent and write inane nonsense. Of course her style of painting is totally different than mine and so are her subjects. I however love her passion for it and the ability to do that ceremoniously every weekend.

Last evening before leaving work she came up to me and asked me if I had done something lately. I told her that I just don’t get into the mood these days and also I don’t have the time. She asked me with an incredulous look that how could I go on without painting? She said that I am wasting my talent by not doing it. I thought about it and realized that out of all my hobbies I have consistently painted. As a child I would paint everyday after I got home from school. My mother had with great affection collected all my work. When I got married, she had given it to my husband who in turn had kept it very carefully in his parent’s home. The infamous 2005 floods in Bombay destroyed all that. I was a little sad then but really didn’t think much about it because I still can paint and the floods did not wipe my ability. Last evening after speaking to the lady at my workplace, I realized that I have taken a lot of things in my life for granted including my art. I always took my parents and my sisters for granted and I realized their value after moving thousands of miles away from them. I have to find time now to paint. I did it last year so why should it change this year. I think it is all about efficient time management. Besides I don’t want to have any regrets later in my life.



I am sharing the above abstract painting that I painted in India several years ago. It was a hot summer day and I was particularly frustrated about a certain situation. I took my colors and randomly painted this piece. At the end of the exercise I was exhausted but my mind was at complete peace.

The reason for not blogging

First of all, Sugarlips and Sanjay, thank you very much for dropping a line and finding out how I was faring. I am very well and the reason for not blogging regularly is that I have recently started a new job. Last week was my first week and it is a long commute. So I leave home early in the morning, negotiate Jersey drivers and Jersey highways *rolling eyes* to my new place of work. In case anyone wants to know I can say "F*** Off" in Italian these days! I have longer hours than my previous job and also the commute to my old job was only ten minutes hence I had all the free time in the evening to write. Most importantly, I was so frustrated in my previous job that towards the end I would even blog during my office hours *blushing with embarassment* to cope with the frustration. Hence there were regular posts from me for the past few months.

As I had mentioned earlier blogging is very therapeutic for me. I will still write on weekends and probably a post or two during the week as I enjoy this very much. Yesterday I couldn't write because I left early in the morning to meet my friend, who was visiting New York on business, for brunch. Of course I have a funny story that happened on the train ride to the City which I might blog about in a little bit. All I can say is that there is never a dull moment in Jersey! I am sorry I haven't had a chance to visit all your blogs and shall do it very soon.

Hey Dan, from Dan's blah blah blog, I have a slogan for New Jersey and here it is......
New Jersey: Never a dull moment here!

Bloggers Anonymous!

Contrary to what the words might suggest, I do not know of any support group that deals with blogging addicts. Anyway my personality is not addictive (famous last words! ;-)). I have been posting on this blog for almost five months. Still except my husband, two sisters and two friends, no one knows about my blog. I just realized that it might change anytime. The other day I blogged about my name but then I would like to believe that I have still maintained anonymity because my name is not uncommon in my part of the world. The initial reason for anonymity was because of some reticence on my part. I wasn’t sure who would be reading and what response I would get. My experience so far has been that I have met very interesting bloggers and whose blogs I love to visit as well.

The other day I was reminded of the most important reason for my anonymity. One of my friends called up to chat after a very long time. We hadn’t spoken to each other close to six months. So while talking I happened to casually mention that I blog. It was one of those moments when you are not thinking and words slip out of your mouth. The first thing this person said, “Don’t you think it might work against your favor if your employer found out that you blog.” My response was that my blog is very harmless; I avoid talking about my work, work related politics or anything that might offend anyone. Mostly I try to write humorous posts and poke fun at myself and K. So then he said, “Why didn’t you let me know about your blog?” That is the time I realized that it was a matter of trust to me. The few people that I have told about my blog are the ones whom I love very dearly and whom I trust implicitly! Of course the above-mentioned friend is a very nice person but I didn’t want him to accidentally mention this to anyone else.

My discomfort is due to the fact that one of my other classmates used to stalk people online. Let us call him “OS.” OS had (still has) a very bad habit of “googling” people’s names and getting information about them. I couldn’t believe how easily one’s personal information is available online. My friend spoke to OS, who informed him that one of my other classmates will be having a baby soon. Now OS didn’t find out this information like how normal people would but instead by regularly stalking our classmate online. We have an online forum for people from my field, which enables people to network with professionals from North America as well as other parts of the world. There is a section where you can talk about personal stuff too. I asked my friend if OS still stalks people. My friend started laughing and said that old habits die hard. I thought it was very creepy because it is more than four years since getting our graduate degrees but OS is still interested in finding out what others are doing….people that he wasn’t even friends with! It is so voyeuristic. Giving the URL of my blog to OS would be comparable to undressing by the window....with the light switched on and the blinds not drawn!

Happy Valentines Day

I think Valentines day is the cheesiest and corniest day (Oops I just lost my readers who love V-day). It must be obvious now that I don't own a Hallmark card or Yankee candles store. I was always like that even in my teens and twenties. I always made fun of my friends who did something special on Feb 14th! Why can you not profess your love on Feb 10th or March 20th or what the hell every day. Why choose one special day to bring in heart shaped balloons, cards and chocolates. Now with my sweet tooth....the sure way to woo me would be with sweets everyday. By the way, this way you would be wooing two people; me as well as my dentist!

Anyway today we have the day off because of the inclement weather. My boss called me up at 5AM to tell this bit of news and I was annoyed with him for waking me at such an unearthly hour (of course I didn't say anything to him though)! I couldn't go back to sleep and heard some enthusiastic neighbors thoroughly scraping the ice to leave for work. I thought to myself....that is dedication....braving icy roads for a deadend job! Maybe they don't have a deadend job....maybe they are out there saving the world while I am complaining about being woken up at 5AM!

K has gone out of town for a few days and will be returning today. I called him up to ask him to check if the flights are delayed and the first thing he says on picking up the phone, "Happy Valentines day Sweetie." I scoff and grumble, "Give me a break!" He starts laughing. If you all think that I am a cynical biyatch....well that could be true... but the fact is that it is a joke between K and I. He knows this about me and will say the most corniest things just to tease or rile me. Hey...I don't dig mush but totally dig good humor and K has plenty of that!

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY and lots of love and hugs from me for the rest of the year as well!

In memory of my friend

Warning: Long winded and sad post ahead. Please read at your own risk.

Tomorrow is Valentines Day and would also have been my best friend A’s birthday. She succumbed to ovarian cancer in November 2005. I met A when we started our architecture program. I remember looking at her with utter disdain on my first day…she was an inch taller than me at 5’9” and wore her hair in a long plait that was soaked with coconut oil. She was wearing an utterly dowdy outfit which was so ill fitting. She came towards me to say “Hi” but I gave her the snootiest looks, which made the poor girl turn around. Of course appearances are deceptive and I found out that she was in fact really cool and very smart. We became best of friends! Very soon she lost the oily hair and got some fashion sense but I used to always tease her about that and she teased me about being Ms. Snooty.

After graduation she got married and came to the United States to pursue her graduate school and we always kept in touch. She had graduated and started working for an architectural firm. I came to the United States a few years later but we never got a chance to hang out as we lived far from each other. Yet we would talk to each other once a week. Later she got pregnant with her second child and also got really busy at work. We seldom spoke to each other as both of us were leading our respective lives. In addition she always felt guilty that she was abandoning her children so whenever I called her up on weekends, she would make small talk and tell me that she had to go and spend time with her children. Of course her abruptness never annoyed me and I understood. Till one day I had called her to wish her on her anniversary and she told me how busy she is with her children, career and her social life that she didn’t have time for any of her old friends. I was thoroughly offended and decided that I won’t call her up anymore. She moved to India six months later and I had visited India around that time but didn’t call her up at all. I thought to myself that if she cared she will send me an email! She didn’t keep in touch and I thought to myself “Oh well, I won’t waste my time on people who don’t want to keep in touch with me.”

Almost a year later, one of our friends, who lives in California left a phone message quite early in the morning, asking me to call her up urgently. I called her up and she said that she had very bad news for me and asked me to not freak out. She told me that A had ovarian cancer, which was detected very recently and that she didn't have many days left. Our friend found this out by chance as she was visiting India and found A in her parent's home. Our friend like a true desi had to get to the bottom of it and being completely tactless asked A if she were getting a divorce.

A had told our friend about her illness. She said that since it was recently detected, she was coping with the news and that she didn't want anyone to bother her. She said that if I ever enquired about her then to let me know. My friend of course called me up right away and told me to not delay calling her up. It took me a few days to compose myself and muster courage to call her up. She was very happy to hear my voice and knew that I know! It was obvious that I did because we had not spoken to each other for a year and a half. I spoke to her about everything under the sun except her illness. We reminisced about the good old days and giggled over the silliest things.

As soon as she hung up I started crying and couldn’t stop. I was sad not only about her illness but also that she had come home from chemotherapy and her two year old who had just started to speak, insisted in his baby voice that he wanted to talk to me on the phone as well. She told me very casually that this is the first time she is hearing him talk as she was away from her family for a month for her treatment. The three of us chatted over the phone. At that very moment tears started rolling down my cheeks but I didn’t want her to know that. I told her “A don’t worry you will outlive all of us.” She started laughing and said, “Sai you are an eternal optimist but thank you!” We spoke for about an hour and when I was about to hang up she said “Thanks for everything.” I asked, “What do you mean?” She said, “Thanks for always being a friend to me and for always understanding me.”

After that I called her up a few times. These conversations took an emotional toll over me and K told me to not do that to myself and to lead my life! Once A asked me if I was planning to visit India during Diwali and that she would like to see me. I told her that I had my professional licensing exams then and couldn't visit but had booked tickets for February. I promised that I would celebrate her birthday with her. She laughed and told me, “Sai, I don’t think I will last till February but I do want to spend Diwali with my children though. I want it to be very memorable for them.” I told her to not talk nonsense and have faith! Ironically she died a week after Diwali and I did go to India in February 2006. I spoke to her parents and sister after her passing and it was a very difficult moment for all of us. When I was in India, I thought about her on her birthday but didn’t go to see her parents. I had seen how my parents reacted to her passing and just didn’t have the strength to face her parents. Since I was so upset I couldn’t even how her family must be coping!

Life can be so cruel as those tiny kids are deprived of knowing what a wonderful person their mother was! My heart goes out to her little children but I am sure my friend is a guardian angel, watching over her little ones.

Why Sai?

A fellow blogger left a comment on my previous post saying that she was intrigued by my name “Sai," which reminded her of Sai Baba, who is her guru. I thought to myself that ever since I have started blogging I have never had an introductory post about me and my name, so here is the post albeit five months late!

Sai is not my real name. It is one of the many nicknames that my father had for me as a child. It is pronounced as “Saee,” as opposed to the Sai in Sai Baba which is pronounced as “Saaee.” My name is rather long. I am named after a historical figure whose tragic love story is famous in India. She was a princess in love with her father’s enemy, who was a king as well. Those who are not familiar with India; ancient India wasn’t cohesive and consisted of many kingdoms that were at war with each other. The princess, against her father’s wishes eloped with her lover. He was so besotted by her charm that he neglected his kingdom and in the bargain was attacked. He lost his kingdom to his enemy, who captured and blinded him! The story ends with the captured blind king killing his enemy with an arrow, which he accurately aimed at the direction of the sound of his conqueror’s voice. All my readers from the Indian subcontinent might have guessed my name by now. If not, shame on you for napping during history class!

I have been teased a lot about my name in school. The typical ones would be to not call me by my actual name but "P" the name of my namesake’s lover/husband. For e.g. girls in my school would say “Hi P” instead of “Hi S” or “Hey S, where is your P?” When I was in the ninth or tenth grade, I attended special coaching classes, which tutored in Math and Science. This was a staple of all geeky kids in Bombay, who harbored ambitions to get into engineering or medical schools. I wasn’t cool then but just another awkward teenager with big hair, buck teeth and glasses. My two sisters never went through an awkward phase like me; they were cute kids who blossomed into beautiful ladies totally bypassing the awkward stage! So I always looked very ugly in their comparison. Of course both of them were very kind and never teased me.

Anyway so I used to ride my bicycle to the coaching classes. We were three girls who rode bicycles as opposed to majority of the boys in our class. So we had to fight with the guys for a place on the bike rack and were constantly at the receiving end of their harmless boyish pranks. Also every time I walked past, a group of guys would scream in unison, “Hey S where is your P? Can I be your P?” At that age it can be very embarrassing and also very annoying. I was very tall for my age and was a total tomboy. I would walk past them completely ignoring them. One day, however I lost it….of course at that time I didn’t know but now I do…. the time when you get angrier than usual is called PMS! I was walking past them minding my own business when one of the guys in that group blocked my path and asked me “Hey S where is your P? Can I be your P” I completely lost it and grabbed the guy, who was three inches shorter to me and very thin, by his collar and venomously hissed “What did you just ask me?” The other guys looked completely shocked and this guy was shaking from head to toe. Then I left his collar and walked on, but he was so shocked by my reaction that he lost his balance and fell on his posterior! At that moment everyone (including me) in our group started laughing. From that day on none of the guys ever made eye contact with me or even called my name!

Years later K introduced me to his extended family on his mother’s birthday. On meeting me his aunt teased, “Hey S….so is K your P?” Of course at that time I didn’t grab the end of her saree but just smiled and said “Yes I think so.”

Media Circus over a tragic death and a Bentley!

I know this post is one day late but then I was really tired last night and didn't have the energy to write so here is my post. Thank God I am not a journalist or else I wouldn't have lasted in that profession!

Last afternoon our secretary announced that Anna Nicole Smith had died. For a moment I couldn’t place her, so I asked “Anna who?” But my two male coworkers had a shocked look on their faces and said, “Wow really…..didn’t her son die recently?” My heartfelt sympathies to her family and loved ones but yesterday there was this non-stop media coverage over her death on CNN, MSNBC etc…I don’t watch other channels like Fox but I am assuming it must be the same everywhere…which was a bit much. I don’t know what Anna Nicole Smith’s claim to fame was except the legal battle for her late octogenarian oil tycoon husband’s wealth, whom she married when she was 26. Of course love is blind and knows no age….so I don’t care what you skeptics might say….it definitely must have been love and not at all wealth as Marshall family has been accusing her of (*rolling eyes*). Anyway I am saddened by her passing as she is survived by her infant daughter, who perhaps might be used as a pawn by other greedy “well-wishers” for their own selfish interests. Again they might not be interested in the prospective wealth the child might inherit….they might be just interested in the wellbeing of the child! I am just being cynical to insinuate greed.

Anyway I thought last night that there was enough intrusion in her life and decided to find out what was happening in my own country. I discover there is more intrusion with the controversy over a legendary Indian superstar presenting his son a Bentley on his birthday. His friend who is a politician claimed that the car belonged to him and not the actor and that he had bought with his own money. As a politician shouldn’t he be accountable as to what is his source of income and how could be afford to buy such an expensive car for his “personal use whenever he is in Mumbai.” I was curious as to what his source of income was and read on his website that he is an industrialist by profession. No further comments!

I cannot understand this intrusion of media in lives of “celebrities.” Do other people really care what is happening in these people’s lives that much? There are far more pressing issues that need to be reported than non-stop coverage of a “celebrity’s” death (although tragic) when there are war casualties (far more tragic). Do I really care who the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s baby is or when Abhishek and Aishwarya will get married? Those who care that much and lap up entertainment news need to get a life….SERIOUSLY!!!!

Remembering Gran

My next door neighbor is a 91-year old woman. She still drives and likes to lead her life independently without any assistance from anyone. Her biggest fear, she had once confessed to me, was that she would lose her independence and would be forced by her daughter to spend her last days in an Assisted Facility. She is an extremely strong woman and in many ways reminds me of my late maternal grandmother, who died a couple of years ago at the ripe old age of 90.

My grandmother lived by herself and was totally independent. She never liked to ask any of her children for anything and would be offended if anyone even suggested. My grandparents did not live too far from my parent’s home. In fact all my mother’s siblings live within an hour’s drive from each other and so do my father’s siblings. My growing years we either had relatives visiting us or we were visiting relatives; so I do enjoy living far away from relatives here in the United States! My grandmother wasn’t the kind of person who would express her emotions freely. She was totally different than her daughter, my mother, who will unabashedly kiss her grown daughters and mother them even today! On the other hand I don’t remember my grandmother mollycoddling me, my sisters and her other grandchildren, even when we were children. I always loved visiting my grandparents’ home for my grandfather. He was so much fun to be with. He had a great sense of humor and absolutely loved children. You could get away with a lot of things with him but not with gran. She was strict and would not hesitate to discipline.

When my grandfather passed on, I used to visit my grandmother, initially more out of guilt than because I enjoyed her company. So every Friday we would have our lunch together. She would make my favorite dishes and of course delectable desserts, since I have a sweet tooth. She would however, not let me binge and would control my portions. She wasn't needy and would in fact tell me that if I wanted to hang out with my friends or kids my age on Friday’s instead of her, she wouldn’t mind and that I should do that. She would say that every time I left her home. It really used to annoy me because I thought she didn’t want to see me.

So one afternoon, out of spite, I didn’t go as per my scheduled time and hung out with my friends. I reached home around 4PM in the evening and my mother asked me the reason why I didn’t go to gran’s. I told my mother that I thought that she doesn’t really care about the fact that I find time for her. My mother started laughing and told me that her mother cannot express her feelings and that she cares....a lot about all her loved ones. She also told me that gran had made all my favorite stuff for lunch and was waiting for me and that she had not eaten herself! Since I hadn’t shown up as expected, she was worried about me and had called my mother. I was surprised and also felt ashamed at my behavior. She lived around fifteen minutes away so I rushed to her home. I lied and told her that I was studying late and that I was famished. I had had lunch but didn’t have the heart to tell her that. Since I love binging, that evening I binged to my heart’s content! After that I kept on my routine till I got married. Later K and I used to see her once a month. Before leaving for the United States, I spent an entire day with her.

Six months after moving to the US, my mother informed me that gran had stomach cancer and at that age did not want to be bothered with any treatment. I was upset and called her up right away. She was too weak to talk but insisted on speaking to me. When I heard her voice, I burst into tears. She scolded me and said that I waste too much of my time on emotions and that I should be pragmatic. She told me that she wouldn’t be there when I came home but warned me about crying or mourning. She said that I would be stupid if I wasted my time crying on the passing of a 90 year old woman. This was such a typical gran statement! Through my tears, I started laughing and we ended that conversation with laughter. She died a few days later peacefully in her sleep. Looking back I have learnt a lot from her; I hope to have her integrity, courage, strength and wisdom as I lead my life.