Deliah

Last summer and fall, there was a house in my neighborhood that had the most gorgeous deliah blooms. Everyday, I would walk by that house just to get a peek at these beauties. One day, I happened to see the owner working in his yard and told him how much joy his flowers brought for passersby like me. We exchanged a few pleasantries and he expressed interest in sharing his bulbs for the next season if I would like. I thanked his generosity and moved on.

This evening, after a long break, I took a stroll and the neighbor was planting the bulbs in his yard. And he had remembered! He had saved a few bulbs and happily gave them to me. I am beyond thrilled and touched by the generosity of this person. I only hope that I do justice to his bulbs and nurture them as much as he did.

What’s up with me?

Work, work, too much work; change is hard but the only constant.
Chills, cold, cough, fever; health is truly wealth.
Take out, left overs, some cooking; nice break from routine.
Perennials sprouting here and there, always a visual treat!
Back to on street car parking, what relief!
Hari made it to Varsity baseball, hip hip hurray to hard work and perseverance.
Ram guitar debut in the school variety show, a big milestone!
NYC trip with a dear friend, hoping for more in the years to come!
Dance is elusive; I have taken a break from chasing it.
Never got up to speed on resolutions; starting over is super hard.
What I call as bonding, he calls as scolding; different points of view?

Game on!

Remember I had mentioned about Destination Imagination a few months back? It’s a team based competition that encourages problem solving and critical thinking in young learners and have them work towards a grand challenge. The best part about this extra curricular activity is the policy of non-interference from parents.There are strict rules around what parents can and cannot do, and interference of any kind would result in the team being disqualified or penalized.

Ram participated in this challenge with five other first and second graders. The team was managed by Da and another parent. The team opted to compete in the category called “Game on”. They chose Monopoly as the game based on which other elements of the challenge would rest on. They had to come up with a story that had two points of view, weaving in some research about the game, making up a song, building a gizmo and props that should fit in a container. And the thing is, the kids had to build all of the elements from scratch on their own, be it writing the script of the story, lyrics of the song or building the 10 by 8 feet monopoly game that would fit in a “container”.

The team was formed in November, and the challenge took place last week. It took a good couple of months for the kids to warm up to each other, understand the challenge, and brainstorm ideas. Until about the winter break in second week of February, it was all abstract with progress made here and there. An amazon box was used as a container, with the four sides painted with different scenes, that would serve as a backdrop. The song would explain the monopoly game to the princess who was lost in the woods and had to win the game to get out of jail and escape the witch. The story was told in Princess’ viewpoint and the witch’s view point.

Although play based, the kids worked very hard, thinking actively, drawing enthusiastically, and improvising constantly. When the weather got colder and it was difficult to get together in person, they worked on their dialogues on Google Hangout. They reminded each other’s dialogues, filled in when there was a gap, and went berserk over snack time.

They were one of the youngest teams in the competition and they secured the third place. Prize or not, we could not have been prouder of them. They totally owned it! Go team DInausaur!

Gold start to Da, it was as much a delight to watch him (and his co-manager) run the show as much as it was to see the kids in action.

Whats on my mind

The impulse to write ebbs and flows but my practice of writing seems to only ebb. When the impulse strikes, the mundaness of life takes over. And when the mundaness of life takes a break, the impulse also takes a break.

So what thoughts are swirling in my head on this Saturday morning?

All my social media feeds were filled with Women’s day wishes. I will confess that I felt like an impostor, suffered from survivor’s guilt, and thought of myself as undeserving of these wishes. I mean people are celebrating certain kind of women – the ones that have shattered glass ceilings, that have succeeded against all odds, and that have shown immense strength, courage and resilience. All of which are excellent reasons to celebrate. But instead of naming days like Woman’s Day or Mother’s Day, in my not so humble opinion, I think we should have days like the Day of Resilience, Day of Nurturers, Day of Courage etc. I mean why should just being a woman be a cause for celebration? Why are men of courage and strength left out? Let ordinary women have the honor of wishing the extraordinary, women or men, in their lives.
After a long long hiatus, Ram and I are reading together again. We are currently reading Swami and Friends by R.K. Narayan. This has been a pleasure at so many levels. Ram’s class is “collecting words” so we were collecting some “un” words in the chapter – unnoticed, unobserved, unfortunate, undoing… and few more that tickled us in the moment but that I have long forgotten. Other than Calvin and Garfield, Ram now has found a new hero in Swami. Ha, the world through the eyes of Swami is so delightful and relatable. And for me, the writing reminded me so much of how my thatha used to write. You know the kind that starts with “Seeking the blessing of Lord Rama” , with fine lanugage, immpecable grammar, no strikeouts, just the words seamlessly flowing on paper.
Hari has registered for his High School courses. Yes, yes, this baby of ours that we dropped in preschool yesterday is going to high school tomorrow. I went through all emotions. On curriculum day, I justed wanted to turn around and go home. Then I agonized over whether he was taking up too much workload. Then I started doubting if he was taking courses that matched his potential. Then all that back and forth discussion between the three of us, and then with the counselors. It’s not as much about the process being hard as it is about being new to us. After going through all that, I feel a sense of calm, readiness, and even excitement for this child of ours…!!
My workplace went through a significant milestone and I am in the midst of humungus changes. It is not fun but one that is needed for me to shake my inertia and pay attention to my career path. Between work related changes, and my other passions taking a back seat, I do get restless and feel like I am in a slump on some days. Thankfully, the sense that I should take ownership for making things happen propels me from that state.

That’s some unsolicited peek into my life this morning. Have a good weekend folks!

Today’s inspiration

“How is your health? How are you doing?” have been my standard text messages to a good friend every two or three weeks ever since she was diagnosed with cancer last summer. The answers have varied depending on the stage of treatment but the tone of her responses has remained consistently calm. You could see that she is hanging in there, taking the treatment in stride. And when I met her last summer she said she is falling back on data supporting her diagnosis rather than being swayed by emotions. It’s one thing to say something but another thing to put it in practice under trying circumstances. I salute her courage, resilience, and the ability to stay above the noise. Wishing her the best of health, now and always.

Kiddie Tales

The house is quiet. Ram is drifting to sleep. Hari has texted me saying that he and Da will be home in another 30 mins after his Sunday evening cricket practice. Ha, thinking of the kids make my heart leap with joy and makes me relive some of the little moments with fondness.

Ram is Hari’s Fitbit sidekick. When Hari is falling short on his steps count, he ties the gadget around Ram’s wrist, which makes him responsible for moving the needle on the Fitbit. Ram, who has no gadget of his own, is thrilled to bits and is happy to parade around the house to help out his brother in his mission. Lately, he has figured out that he doesn’t have to walk to add the steps, all he needs to do is shake his wrist. This evening, Ram has been dutifully multi-tasking with the flipping of Asterix book on one hand, and shaking his wrist on the other hand.

I am also reminded of the conversation that we were having on our way to Sunday school this morning. Hari was generally mocking us (his parents) for our reaction to his grades. “You only got 90 out of 100? What happened to the 10 marks Hari, is what you guys would ask. But when I didn’t do as well on one challenging math test, you were ok with it. That’s my life Ram!”, he proclaimed in a melodramatic fashion that only a teen can. Listening intently to this, Ram grandly concludes, “Hari, I think it is better if we just get lower marks then.”

Da and I were having an argument over something. Hari came upto me and said it was uncomfortable to be a witness to the argument. “Sorry babes, but I have all these emotions and feelings that needed an outlet,” I explained in an attempt to keep it real. “Amma may be you can have a Screaming Day. On Screaming Day, go to a quiet place, and give it a rip I say.” “But Hari that will be no fun because nobody else other than me will be miserable,” I retort and both of us start giggling imagining the whole scenario. A few seconds later Hari says, “By the way on Screaming Day, I would like to come with you too. I have a thing or two to scream about you see.”

Taking the high road

I can feel it. The anger. Simmering, boiling, waiting to erupt, to only leave a trail of destruction. I hate that it has such a hold on me. But I am also thankful that I am aware. That I am feeling angry. That it is a fleeting emotion. Of the sullen faces at home if I succumb to it.

The very simple, enormously difficult, and the only sensible thing to do is to not react. Give anger the time and space it needs to pass. To just sit tight. The damage is done, what good comes out of fighting over spoilt milk?

Somehow writing these few lines has magically calmed me down and allowed the intensity of the emotion to pass. Da, who is blissfully unaware of what’s brewing in my head and is snoring away to glory, must thank his lucky stars that a domestic disaster has been averted (or has it? Only time will tell!).

In case you are wondering what this hullabulla is about. I warned about icy driveway and walkway last night. But according to the facts he had in front of him (warmer temperature), there was no need to rush to the store to get salt because the chances of having black ice is unlikely given the temperature. Not only that he asked me to check if my shoes have worn out. Grrr….!!! Poor Hari had to pay the price by slipping and sliding in the walkaway when he returned from cricket practice late last night.

That’s my friday morning quota of much ado about nothing. Thanks for reading people.

Tall Tale

My town library is celebrating its 150^th b’day. At a time when the town did not even have a sewage system, its members came together to open a library. Pretty amazing, isn’t it? As part of the celebrations, the library has come up with several programs. One of which is submitting a Tall Tale around late returns to waive the overdue fine.

No prizes for guessing if I have accumulated fine or not. Here goes my Tall Tale.

Her fantasy. Wrapped in the softest of sleep robe, she would curl up with the library book in hand, eagerly thumbing through the pages as though there is no tomorrow.

He reality. Wrapped in the softest sleep robe, she curls up next to her offspring, with the library book by her bedside. The warmth of the little human wraps her in a cocoon of love, and before she rests her head on the pillow, she is sailing off to dreamland. The book by her bedside waits for tomorrow, just like the previous day. To be read, to be devoured. And the fine in her account piles, slowly but steadily, one dime at a time!

Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

Reading this book was a roller coaster experience. The first 100 pages were truly difficult to read, and left me scratching my head. There was much ado about nothing. Why, oh why, has he devoted so many pages to that smelly boatman? I wanted to pull my hair out. My husband who had read the book as a college graduate gave me an empathetic nod. So ok, it’s not me then!

With that validation, I started plodding along, and somewhere along the way, the tangled web that he was weaving, and that play with words started taking a hold on me. With a boatload of characters, realism, special powers, political turmoil, twists and turns, it was hard work to keep up with the talkative Salim, the narrator and the protagonist. You are emotionally invested in the story.

In the end, you can’t help but admire Rushdie’s knack with words, and vivid imagination. How even when there are so many characters, they don’t feel unnecessary. Each of them has a role to play. And above all, just when he has made you laugh, he makes you cringe or strikes you with a tragedy. The seesaw of emotions you experience with the story sometimes makes you get angry with Rushdie.

I am not rating this book for now. I need to go back and savor it in bits and pieces to appreciate the nuances. Without being on the edge, without my reading prejudices. Defintiely give this book a shot, it will challenge you to be a patient reader.

LMT

10 days into the new year already. Day by day, our overall workload is ramping up. Pausing for a serving of little moments from this week.

“Ram, why do you have that pillow on the side in your bunk bed,” I asked him annoyed at the clutter. “My hand gets tired when I am reading amma, this pillow is to rest my hand and hold the book at the right angle,” he replied leaving me amused. “And why do you have books tucked under your pillow. If you remove them, you can sleep comfortably, right?” I rested my case. “It’s ok amma. It’s not uncomfortable. When I wake up early, I am too lazy to get down and grab a book. This way I can just be lazy and read in my bed.” Gotta love this planned deliberate laziness! Gave me a chuckle and a smile a mile long.
Have you read about the Love Languages by Gary Chapman? It came up in one of the workshops that the middle school conducted. Curious to know my Love Language, I took the quiz and so did Hari. It sounds cheesy but trust me, give it a shot. You will learn something about yourself. It can be done with partners or with your child. The premise being not all of us love and expect to be loved in the same manner. By understanding our love languages, we can enrich our relationships. It makes a lot of sense to me. Now that I know Hari’s love language I will go an extra mile to express my love for him in a language he appreciates. Want to know mine? Mine is Acts of Service and Quality Time. It was somewhat of a aha moment! Now I just need to convince Da to take the quiz, who of course looks at it with disdain.
Set up my new iPhone XR from work. I am not a lover of gadgets, but even for me it was nice to play with a new toy. My eyes lit up whenever I discovered a new feature.
A NY ritual that I picked from my dad is sending out new year wishes to near and dears. Once a year, I send lengthy emails updating folks about the happenings in my life. One or two respond generally respond, and I have felt a bit silly about writing long emails. But this year, a few more folks responded and cared enough to provide a general update on their life. Their life changes were so inspiring and galvanized me into action.

Tudlu for now. I still have a couple of Costa Rica posts in my head that I hope to pen down here.