Valentine or not?

Another Valentine’s Day went by. So, what has it done to you? Are you sad, angry, depressed, happy, over the moon, smitten with love?

This day has, over the years, gathered so much importance that if you do not “celebrate” it, you can almost land yourself in depression. So much of propaganda and public confessions of love everywhere! This is also the most controversial and debatable concept in recent times. For every person that questions and exasperates over the hype surrounding such a frivolous concept that is both foreign and also causes wasteful outflow of money, you can almost find another or two waiting to showcase their love on this day. We are a hopeful and romantic lot, aren’t we? Whether you belong to the group that endorses such celebration or not, one cannot escape it, especially after the internet has given us the gifts of Twitter and Facebook. Can anyone in this world dare go unnoticed?

This important day has its own benefits and pitfalls. For the men folk who are by nature romantic, there is no better day than this to earn themselves brownie points from their sweet(er) halves. As for women folk (who I think are the eternal romantics and believers in the happily-ever-after stories), it is a day to get pampered and lap up all the gifts being showered on them. So far so good; life is easier for people who can classify themselves clearly into either of the two groups. It is only when the classification edges on the blur that possible irritants crop up distressing men and women alike.

Many men lack the skills to think of anything out of the mundane. Subtle and not-so subtle hints being dropped by the better (bitter?) half go either unnoticed or worse ignored. Many (again its’ mostly the male species) take refuge in snubbing and rubbishing this whole idea as western and condemn the hoopla around such an event that is being shoved down the throats of unsuspecting souls like them.

Men, who belong to the above category, get nagged by their wives for being so and the women (who happen to be the wives of these variety) sulk, nag and even wish for a different husband around this time of the year. Even children are not spared the frenzy what with 10 and 12 year olds having a “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” these days! Not to mention the singletons-in-the-hunt for whom the urge or compulsion to get hitched gets particularly stronger during this period.

I am not from the group that bashes the celebrating one. In fact I do not mind such “days” even if it seems childish to profess love and exchange gifts on just some particular day So, my take on this: We live in a fast-paced world where many don’t really get a chance to spend some quality time with their loved ones. So, it is, in a way an excuse and opportunity to make your loved one feel special. There is no harm in this, is there?

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The age old old-age story

I stumbled upon this post by Hip hop grandma which set me thinking. How true! -is all I can say, for I have a first-hand experience of such a scenario. My paternal grandparents lived to the ripe age of eighties and nineties. They had seven children, 5 sons and 2 daughters. Grandfather was a man who, I thought, was absorbed and obsessed with himself. His disposition never exuded the warmth that is expected from “grandparents”. He rarely spoke to us, his grandchildren, with a smile. There were rare occasions when he would speak to me about my studies, etc but the comfort factor in a grandparent-grandchild relationship was always missing. My grand-mom was subservient and timid in nature, had very little opinion of anything in life. I sometimes doubt it was due to the nature of my dominating grandfather that she never bloomed intellectually.

Grandmother gave up kitchen and other household duties once the daughters-in law arrived. To cook and cater to such a large family was definitely not a pleasant task for any daughter-in-law, to put it very mildly. That this huge family lived in a small one room kitchen flat didn’t make matters any better. Slowly the individual families started to move out to live separately until only the last uncle, the aunt and my grandparents remained.

The usual in-law intolerance (both parties being equally intolerant of the other) led to an understanding and arrangement between the brothers that the parents would live with each one of them for equal amounts of time during the year. Whether the parents, i.e. my grandparents were consulted on this agreement, I don’t know. There were five sons, so the math came to around 2.5 months at each son’s house. 2.5 months of their presence each year was not too much yet their visits were never welcome. I cannot say what my father felt about it since we never spoke openly about such issues. My mother being a working woman had extra work on hand during those 2.5 months. The entire house would don a tense atmosphere for the fear of upsetting the precariously balanced emotions of each member. I do not recall any moments of conversations between my grandparents and our mother that spoke of love, care and wisdom that age brings in. Although, we, as children, could not analyze the situation then, the gloom around caught on to us and needless to say we didn’t look forward to it. Sadly, this was the case not only in our house but also at our cousins’. At an age where life could have been enriched in the company of so many grandchildren, my grandparents were left poorer due to their sheer incapability to come out of their self-imposed shell. My analysis and observation may be flawed and seem one-sided to tilt in favour of my mother who would recount her younger days as a daughter-in-law when her sincere attempts to win my grandparents over were not reciprocated.

As I look back at those years, I feel bad for my grandparents. Indeed a very sad and painful situation for someone to be in. Your near and dear ones wish for the inevitable for you so as to breathe easy. Did they bring it on themselves to evoke such emotions? Yes and no. Perhaps yes; if only they had been more demonstrative of their love (if any) towards the daughters-in-law; if only they had shown some care and warmth towards the grandchildren. Yet, the answers are not so straight forward. Even if the aging party is a warm, kind and happy one, how far can the next generation travel along with them? Taking care of aging parents is not just about love and duty. Year after year of constant catering of emotional, medical and spiritual needs takes a toll on the younger generation who do not remain any younger too. They have their own set of problems and challenges in life and wish to move on. So then, is old-age home a solution? I have addressed this part in one of my earlier posts (here) that as I grow older I would not wish to be a burden on my offspring. I hope the children who opt for such an option are not mistaken to be ruthless souls who have no gratitude towards their parents. This, I say as a parent but when I think of the same option as a child to my parents, I cannot bring myself to doing it.

I believe our ancestors had the four stages to life very clearly etched out to deal with such delicate matters. The king would renounce the kingdom and venture into the forest to seek higher awareness once his progeny was ready to take on his responsibility. How foresighted were they, our fore-fathers!

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The choice to be..

There is a common phenomenon to put a label/tag to everything one (especially women I think) does. Working or non-working, full-time mother, SAHM, …? full-time mother? This one stumps me; as though one can be a part-time mother. You are either a mother or not. Period. As I said, these tags seem to haunt women more than men. we have to somehow squeeze ourselves into one of the recognized labels. Any ambiguity, and a new tag is coined. For instance, being a mother is not sufficient enough for people, so, viola! a new term- SAHM is coined to emphasize that you also stay at home.

People have certain expectations, strangely not from themselves but from others. Women's liberation fanatics have sadly taken this battle to the other extreme-you HAVE to be working to qualify yourself to be called liberated-else you are the cow slaving for the man. If you do not hold a job, you are probably dull enough or lack the confidence to manage home and work. The concept of choice just escapes the cranium of these nutcases. Liberation for me would mean the freedom of CHOICE that a woman should have in life.

So, what do you do at home? Even if I am just hatching eggs and day-dreaming all day, how should it matter to anyone? After all the pay-packet that I might have earned otherwise will anyway not flow into the other’s house. It is so annoying when an innocuous question such as “so, what do you do?” has to be answered carefully so as to justify your being at home and not working outside of home. The “working” tag is so narrow that it just cannot be extended to the home. For some reasons, the grass is never green on this side.

A is a friend who worked far away from home even before marriage; so in that sense very independently managed herself, got married to the person of her choice, lived apart from her hubby for some years due to career compulsions and then worked into having a co-existing career and marital life. Peers may probably envy her life and wished it were them. The parent-generation is a proud clan.

I have no issues with this. I would have felt the same.

However, consider this scenario: A studies hard to get into engineering, studies and gets placed in a prestigious company. She quits realizing it is not her cup of tea and decides to pursue arts instead. Further, she does not have a regular job but freelances as a hobby. Will anyone say they are proud of her? Will anyone want to trade places? Someone who is not successful in the conventional manner is not a bright person. Someone who probably wants and works towards having a well-kept house, a happy-married life, be a SAHM by choice is a non-ambitious person-a loser who probably lacks the skills to have a career.

Why does a job/career HAVE to be a choice for modern day women? Why can’t she just have a choice to do what she wants and still be respected for that?

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Cooking it up

Cooking is not my cup of tea.

Yet, I do it and I dare say I do it quite sincerely even though it does not exactly excite me. There are times when I do try out some new dishes for the sake of variety and when the cooking bug does bite me-yes it does happen. The first year of our marriage was most significant in this regard when I was enthused into trying out new and newer dishes, trying to impress dear hubby (wink wink, don’t all the new brides do it to an unsuspecting husband). After years of staying away from home and eating non-palatable stuff, hubby was most happy and grateful if I can say so. Appreciation being a great motivation I was not stressed to create a meal. Even if not up to the mark, which was the case many times, hubby would be gracious enough to cover it up. Ah! The innocent me took it seriously enough to assume that I could cook quite well. I would naively even ask him to rate me from a scale of 1 to 10 and he would say I average between 7 to 8 which was a great score for me-an amateur cook.

Now, to be fair to myself, I do not cook atrociously and over time I have learnt to cook quite decently and do dish out some delicious stuff every once a while (consistency here is a challenge though ;-)). However, with time, hubby’s expectations have also increased and the rating system has, as a result, also become stringent:-(. As a mother to a toddler now, I do not enjoy the leisure of time and hence this important chore has become a case of hit and misses.

Now, the real issue here is that I have not (yet) conditioned myself to be able to digest a bad review, however genuine, for the simple fact that I feel the connoisseur should take into account the effort, time and intention behind the whole process of dishing out a (decent) meal. Also, I find it really unfair on the part of life to pile upon so many tasks on the shoulders of women while men get away with very little. She is expected to multi-task with a smile on her face and is not spared any inefficiency on her part too! Any confrontation on this matter with hubby is met with a benign smile and “oh, you women do it so well. Blah bah”

So with the bar being raised by hubby compounded with my basic disposition towards cooking and the eternal paucity of time in the world of mothers, should I say, I have not come closer to embracing this abhor-able yet intrinsic activity/chore of life?

I score a shameful 5 or 6 now on hubby’s scale. Well, more years into this marriage and I only hope I do not slip into sub-zero.

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Wife-y and motherly blues

I am slowly turning to a nag. I had never thought I would. But then who on earth imagines and dreams of being one. I always prided on having the answers to relationship complications. The answers are still there though only in my mind. I am unable to practice it.
I feel resentful for most part nowadays. The chunk of it is directed towards my husband who is invariably the target for all the right and wrong reasons.
I feel resentful because I feel I am doing all the work all by myself. I get up, make lunch, breakfast, pack lunch for my husband, make breakfast for my kid, feed him, clean-up his potty, prepare for his bath, take a shower myself, put the clothes into the machine, all this within 3 hrs in the morning. Then I have some peace after my husband has left for work and my son is bathed. He sleeps for the rest of the morning and my maid comes to clean the house. Then, from the time my son wakes up till late into the evening I take care of his needs, entertainment, etc. By the time my hubby comes home, it is time for my son to have dinner and go to bed. Hubby is also tired and hungry and can’t wait to have his dinner and crash down into slumber. I don’t blame him yet I can’t stop venting my frustrations at him. I really do feel isolated in the sea of parenthood and cannot seem to take stock of the situation. I know the answers and the questions yet the resentment!

p.s. (quite many days have lapsed since the time I wrote the above and as I couldn't post it in time, I need to update it.)

A few days after the above was written, hubby decided to take over giving breakfast to the lil' one and also cleaning his morning potty. It means a lot to me. It is a huge help in itself. I was trying to get back to my usual self and I guess was a tad successful too until today. I decided to cook something more than the routine stuff prompted by hubby of course ("I don’t remember the last time you cooked this" always works you see). Hence was running late. Hubby magnanimously agreed to wait till I took the shower. I too returned the favour by finishing in record speed (actually, I don’t remember taking a luxurious leisurely shower ever since I became a mother, sigh! well, will talk about this some other time). I came out to find the entire house in a shape that perhaps only an earthquake or hurricane could have otherwise caused. Skills of a toddler, you know. Dear son was at it-and is always at it-when I am most busy to give him even a glance. The shoe-rack was emptied and some of the contents were found in the kitchen. The spoons from the kitchen cabinet were distributed equally on the living room sofas and chairs. (Yes, I have heard of baby proofing but we stay in a rented flat, so do not have much choice in this matter.) The toys were scattered everywhere. The bed was ‘made’ (by hubby) in a shoddy manner. I can go on but for the reader's benefit, shall stop here. Hubby was found reading a blog on internet amidst all this. Seeing me, and knowing me, he left in a hurry. This was reason enough for me to explode like a volcano. I called hubby and as soon as the call was picked up, howled for 5 seconds only to hear hubby calmly say, "Sorry, I was unable to hear you".
The receiver went BANG on my end!!!! I am back to being a Nag.

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Neighbour's howlers

The other day, I got myself and my 10 month old son ready for the usual evening outing into the play-area. The lift arrived and I pushed my son’s stroller into it and pressed the down button. As luck would have had it, the lift decided to give someone else’s command the first preference, so up we went all the way to floor number 8. A well-dressed middle-aged lady got into the space with us. As good neighbours we acknowledged each other and engaged in small talk. The conversation or should I say interview went like this:
Lady: new? Which floor?
Me: (smile) second
Lady: own house?
Me: no…(I wish for the lift to descend faster)
Lady: working? Where does your husband work?..(now, most people I meet have never heard of my hubby’s company as he is not the usual software techie. So people expecting to hear a Infosys or a Microsoft seem clueless or give an almost sympathetic look when they hear the name)
Lady: umm..oh…where is it (she is undeterred nevertheless)
As I mumble out the correct answers, my son gets fidgety and I need to calm him down. As I do so in Tamil, my mother tongue, lady is pleased to know that I am from the fellow speaking language.
Lady: boy or girl? How old? Your first? (The third part sets me wondering if the answer would set her off in giving me some family planning gyan)
Thankfully, we arrive at the destination at this point. I mumble something to her and rush out. She follows and even as we part ways she prods, Iyer or Iyengar?
Do come home sometime….
Phew!..in less than 5 minutes, she knew almost all the basic details about me. Another couple of minutes with her and I am sure she would have had my ancestors’ life-story before her. Call it the art of conversation or the work of over-worked paparazzi.

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The marriage saga

When my parents began to look out for a match for me, we decided to go online. My parents were keen on getting the horoscopes matched and I was keen that I should have a major role in deciding who I should spend the rest of my life with. Hence the decision was a favored one for both parties. This was the easy part. I was not in anyway prepared for the rickety ride I was to embark upon.

With tingling excitement and dreams of a young bride-to-be in the quest of her dream man, I went about setting up my profile on one of the leading portals. I carefully worded the “About me” and “Looking for” columns. Then, I began to sift through profiles to shortlist the ones that interested me. One way to get an insight into a person’s personality is through the way he or she writes. I cannot say it’s foolproof. Yet it is a beginning nevertheless. Soon, I began to see a common factor in most of the profiles. The “looking for” column more often than not resembled one another. Tall, fair, slim, good-looking, professionally qualified, career-oriented at the same time domestically-trained (I thought they were talking about dogs), fun-loving, interest in music an added advantage, adjustable (a belt would have been a more appropriate choice I thought), needs to be working (what if she quit after marriage I wondered).

One look at these ads and my initial enthusiasm plummeted. I was a total no-no in the marriage market I understood. To begin with, I am dark as per Indian standards. Secondly, having a master’s degree in commerce and a being a German language expert, I realized sadly, did not amount to professional qualification with some ads going one step even further as to list out the degrees acceptable to them. BEs, MBAs, CAs ruled the charts. At first I was furious that in this era one could have such chauvinistic expectations. The men that posted such criteria were quite ordinary in terms of education and looks. Such double standards! My anger slowly gave way to resentment and cynicism. Not to mention the corrosion of my self-esteem which took a beating each time I encountered one of these prospects.

Some of the men I interacted with over email seemed fine till the time I mentioned the words horoscope and parents. They disappeared from the face of the earth the very next instant. Most of these were NRIs who I presumed were just having their share of fun. Some were downright MCPs who believed that the wife’s place is just to “manage” the house with no say in whatsoever more significant in life. I too had certain expectations of my future husband and rejected many on various grounds (some flimsy but mostly valid) but as time passed and I grew older, “well-wishers” around advised me (some subtly, others bluntly) to lower my standards or risk the chance of spinsterhood.

I slowly realized that the marriage market is just that- a market where you need to market/sell yourself properly. No room for reason or emotions. How ironical! I thought marriage is about emotional bonding amongst other things. To cut an already long story short, before I got drowned into a whirlpool of cynicism and negativity towards marriages and particularly arranged ones, I met my husband who thankfully is not one of the jerks mentioned above. Nope, I did not compromise and “settle down”. All’s well that ends well but I sure hope the scenario changes. I’m already noticing that the tables are turning in favour of women. Jai ho!

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