Liberosis

 Liberosis

Did you know that this word existed? I did not till about a week ago. It means 'the longing to care less about things, to loosen one's grip on life's pressures, anxieties, and responsibilities'. And Bingo! something clicked into place. This is exactly me. Each time my chronic companion, the clinical D (call it sadness if it sounds better) rears his head, I slip into my hibernation mode. I try not to let people who don't really know me, see me. I'm the highly functional kind, so no one usually gauges from the exterior but some days, the facade tends to crack. During those times, I try avoid social gatherings (not that my life is bustling with those) because in case someone discerns the crack, I'm sometimes subjected to well meaning discourses on 'look at me, I had so so issues, don't you see me bearing up? In comparison, what exactly is wrong with your life?'. 

It's more than what is going on in my life. of course, the personal front is not all song and dance but definitely does not cloud my ability to distinguish between 'I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet'. My issue is I'm unable to look away from the 'man who had no feet'. Things amplify in my mind space. Am i making sense? I hope I am to the few who will read through this ramble. Because, the hope is to speak aloud and clear out the clutter.

The current West Asia crisis hasn't been gentle on my mind. Physically I'm safe and reside in a peaceful nook that is trying hard to maintain its stability. But, I cant unsee...

-the 'over a 100 elementary school kids and their teachers' who as usual waved good bye that morning before they left home;

- the one/two/three/more outdoor workers whose routine doesn't provide the luxury of work from home killed by falling missile debris; 

-the civilians who were in transit before falling debris exploded them; 

-the thousands of Indian expat kids who weren't able to sit for their 12th boards (of course, life goes on but would platitudes have been easy if my child was one among the many);

-the LPG impact on hostels/residential facilities grappling to 'feed' the youngsters who depend on them (the private instituitions that charge a loot might feature differently but the crowd they cater to is a different breed); 

-shutters on the roadside eateries that cater to the gazillion gig workers whose binge working makes life easy for us but barely keeps his/her life together...

-'Amazon Warehouse Workers Face Hunger: Amazon India Workers Union'...the news article reflects on the lakhs of migrant workers who cant 'book' LPGs but depend on private players that sell 1-2 kg portable cylinders on which they 'community cook' or actual roadside eateries (not fancy thattu kadas); 

-when friends and families residing in GCC mention in a matter of fact voice "we can see and hear the missile interceptions, the broadcast-based emergency alerts keep sounding...but life goes on"; 

-Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA) says that 1,464 civilians including at least 217 children have been killed...

All this and more amplifies in my mind even more so when I hear people whose lives are maybe just slightly inconvenienced, crib out aloud. I do understand that it is simply human nature to notice only that which inconveniences ones own daily living. Its not deliberate apathy or inconsiderateness. Its just our nature. And, like a dear relative with whom I personally discussed this honestly exclaimed, "Oh! I did not really notice all this. For us, it was just the cooking cylinder worry".

"I chatter, chatter, as I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever..."

As one grows older, these lines from Tennyson's famous poem makes more sense. Reading it in class, as mandatory study material, we do not really realise how deep these lines are. Like the 'The Brook' that flows on irrespective of what happens, life goes on. Hope life brings a better tomorrow for our children...

Yesterday stumbled into an upscale Italian speciality restaurant.

Hmm...not really stumbled :-) My hubby is very sweet but where temperaments and

Winds of change...its now or never!

We met on a matrimonial site. Circa 2003. His proposal was shortlisted mainly because he was a doctor and both my parents too were doctors. Appa had a special respect for his chosen fraternity and I shared it, what with being brought up by two and after having worked as a medical journalist.

As was common in those days, my profile was created in such a way that it was my Appa who was on the lookout for suitable matches for his child. But then again, it being those years, dad was not very computer savvy and it was I who drafted the profile. One of the important points it stated was, 'We, as a family, do not believe in the dowry system. And, if yours does, please do not respond to this profile'.

Dr. Satish (his real name) wrote in his interest to my father, in perfect, old school gentleman style. Appa was impressed. He was in training for his MRCPCH in the UK. Soon after, we began corresponding. I had taken a break from work to do a second Masters during that time and was in Chennai. His parents were retired and settled in Bangalore.

I was home in Kerala on a short break and his parents visited. It was a short, informal meet and they claimed that they too wanted to settle in Kerala and had come to check out a property they had shortlisted at Kottayam (my hometown). After I returned to Chennai, Satish during the course of one of our chats (it was yahoo and hotmail chat times) said, "My mother really liked that carved, antique teapoy set in your house. Are the tusks on those carved elephants real ivory?". I was gobsmacked that a first time visitor would pay such attention to details of furniture etc. The conversation changed soon after.

Fast forward a few more weeks, the alliance was on in full arranged marriage style. Satish came down to India. We met at home, with parents in tow. His parents had bought a very old house in Kottayam, which they mentioned that they planned to renovate. As in most arranged marriage meets, I felt no special spark at our meeting. But yet, two incidents happened which struck me as very odd. When we had a few minutes alone, Satish in great hurry thrust a small gift into my hand and said, "I brought this for you, but don't take it out before my parents". And, the second was when his mother requested to my mom that she wanted to see me in a saree. I did voice my protest to mom but she mollified me saying it was a harmless request. And, when I did wear a saree, the lady looked at me, nodded as if satisfied and said, "She does not look like my elder daughter in law who is so stocky. My DIL looks so rotund in a saree".She also brought out a wedding picture of the elder son to show us his wife.

The two incidents kept playing on my mind. But contrary to my usual nature, I did not voice this to my parents. The main reason was because I was riddled with guilt, for already disappointing them twice - once, over a never should have happened love affair and second, a haphazard attempt at proposing to a friend on the rebound and which did not work out (on hindsight luckily for both of us). I was 28. I decided to voice my concerns to a senior Psychiatric counsellor who mentored me during my summer apprenticeship at an NGO. Looking back, I do not know if it was his traditional upbringing or he simply did not want to take the responsibility of a marital alliance break up, he told me, "Focus on the positive side. Satish likes you so much that he brought you that gift. Maybe his parents are conservative and that is why he chose to hide it from them".

A couple of weeks fast forward. A wedding date is set and the hall booked. We are corresponding on a regular basis too.

Then one day, a phone call from Appa.

" Dear,I want to ask you something.Do you really like Satish? Will you be very disappointed if this does not work out? If so, tell me and I will make this happen". Appa, what exactly is this? Tell me...

To cut a long story short, once the date and venue were fixed the 'would have been in-laws' had made the following statements, over many days...

-How much gold are you planning to give Molu (daughter). You saw my elder daughter in law's picture, no. She was wearing 100 sovereigns. It's not that we want anything but if Molu can't match that, then she might be embarrassed.

-We want a very grand wedding here. But since we are settled in Bangalore for several years, all our friends are there. So, we want you to give a grand reception there.

-Since you are not from Bangalore, how about giving us Cash in advance so that we can arrange the Reception in Bangalore.

After that 3rd call, my dad had put them on hold and said, "I'd like to talk to my daughter and ask her opinion". Till then, he hadnt told me because he too (like I did) assumed he might disappoint me!

Appa, don't even ask me, call this off immediately.

Appa, however, decided to give it one last shot by emailing Satish about this. The guy responded, "See Doctor, my parents are only trying to make your daughter's life comfortable. After all this is all for her. Even here I have just bought an apartment, wont she get that too". That made us laugh! The sheer ludicrousness.

We called it off.

Circa 2023.

Yet another smart, beautiful professional lady, with a brilliant future ahead of her, decides to end it all. Her would be groom called off the wedding because the dowry was not enough! Yet another statistic, yet another news item from my cent percent literate State.

I was in two minds before penning this down. Will I be able to get the message across in the right manner? Does it sound like I'm preening? Its sheer luck that I had a man like my dad as father. Pure destiny. But, then I decide to pen it down because over the years, I've realised that the courage that most people around me associate me with is something that was taught to me by my dad.

Why is it that we instill in our daughters that her 'self worth' is determined by someone else. Why do we teach her to measure her societal status by how docile she is? Perhaps that is the unspoken code of conduct that we instill deep in them by how we lead our own lives. Mothers who let themselves be trampled, walked over and treated as properties. Fathers who show them this is how real 'alpha males' treat their women, don't dare dream for better.

PS: Let us not make any judgemental/patronising comments or opinions about the young medico who passed away. We, in no way, know what she went through. Rest in Peace, young one.

Reverse empty nest syndrome

 With nuclear families, almost everyone has become familiar with the concept of 'The empty nest syndrome'- we've either experienced it or seen someone experiencing it. But, what about the reverse? Maybe, I'll call it the Reverse Empty Nest syndrome. This is the term that came to mind when I attempted to name the strange feeling of 'uprootedness' that hit me, periodically...and,over the years. I tried searching the term on the internet and it did throw up an article or two but these were mostly about youngsters whose parents shifted residence, geographically, while they were away in Universities. And, not from an Indian perspective. What is special about the Indian perspective,you ask? Well, we seem to have a culture-specific propensity to delay moving out of our parents' homes and, even if we do move out we keep coming back, we never quite quit thinking of our parental homes as some kind of base, a taproot perhaps.

I got employed just after my 22nd birthday,in another state. Each journey back and forth saw my entire family heading out to the railway station to either see me off or see me in. My Appa, used to drive me crazy with his repeat phone calls to check if I'd checked/rechecked my tickets, if the train/bus was on time, when would I be reaching (though he knew it) etc etc. Once the destination moved from Chennai to Bangalore, the journey moved from trains to overnight buses so that I could alight closer home. It also meant the buses reached early in the morning by 6.30 or so. Appa would wake up much much earlier and come over to where I alight, atleast 1/2 hr in advance. Like all youngsters, I found his solicitousness annoying and at times, have even told him off. 

Later, when I moved along with the spouse to Middle East, my amma, took over the role. And, though I did try to convince her to not undertake the 3 hour car ride to pick me up as I arrive at the airport, she came saying she'd like to spend the time during the trip back home talking to me. I was secretly glad. This phase ended when amma moved to be with my sibling. 

Then, home base shifted to where my in-laws resided. More specifically, my mother in law. The two years that Covid raged, we did not make the trip to Kerala. December 2021, I took my then preteen, home for a two week visit. When I called to inform them of our plans to visit, my eldest sister in law, who was there, simply said, "I'm so happy that you are coming". I was beyond happy to hear that! And, when we arrived, I saw my usually not very emotive father in law literally beam. Those two weeks were some of the happiest times my daughter and I had. 

In June 2022, I went again. But, this time it was for a scheduled spine surgery. During a casual chat, on one of my days of recuperation, my mother in law stated. "Why am I, such an old person, alive when so many youngsters die?". Amma, it is because you are here that I could take it easy after my surgery, I told her. Her face cleared. That trip was the last I saw her alive.

We will be travelling to India, hopefully soon. My father in law is still there. My sisters in law too. But now, I know this too is a time bound luxury. In an average person's life, there are broadly 2 phases. The one when you have your parents with you and the other, when they are not around. This strikes you, even more, at times when the body fails to match the pace your mind wants to set.

Reverse empty nest syndrome... 

For Appa

Tommorrow is Appa's 77th birthday. Every now and then I keep wishing we'd had more opportunities to bond better. It took adulthood and a heartbreak for me to really get to know what a steadfast rock solid support he could be. It was like an invisible veil was lifted and we suddenly could understand each other so much better. Appa was pretty clueless when it came to building a real rapport with kids and this was 'one' reason why we bonded late. In a lot of ways I found my spouse almost the same when it came to Abhi. The comparison just made me work harder on making him emote/ relate better to her. And now, on several occasions when she cooly says, "Amma, I like Acha better. You are the fighter cock", the brat really doesn't realise how proud it makes me. All my work, luv, ha ha ha. A memoir I penned the year before last cropped up on my Facebook memories and my little brat read through it. She wisely said, " Amma, now you know why I always come and give you extra hugs...I shouldn't be missing you the way you now miss your dad". Healing can be hard when you dont forgive yourself and...others. It is time I did. For me, writing about it is a major way of sorting things within my head and so... It was the begining of May, 2007. We (Unni and I) had come down to Kerala from Bangalore on a 2 day visit to attend his cousin's daughter's wedding. We arrived the previous evening and since it was such a short visit, Unni decided to go to his parents' and I to mine. His had a full house with his sisters and their families too. And so, I felt no qualms about going straight to my home. We stay only 27 kms apart and it was decided I would join in with the wedding goers bus, the next morning, as it passed a point near my home. We'd also decided I would hop off as we journeyed back since the next day we had to return to B'lore and I would get only one more evening at home. Appa saw me off at the bus stop and I hopped in casually promising to return back home that evening. Now, it so happened that mom in law fell sick and decided to skip the trip. It was a 4 hour journey to Trivandrum from Kottayam, and back. Everything went well till the return journey started. Now at leisure, the many neighbour/distant relative wags that were along with us on the bus kept repeatedly asking me, "Arent you coming back to Arpookkara? Mother is sick"...and so on and so forth. I guess they were just harping on it as casual talk. But, as luck would have it, at that point I somehow felt guilty for deciding to stop at my house. And, I called my appa and told him," Appa, I wont be coming home. Please bring my luggage to the bus stop. I'm going to Arpookkara". Appa said nothing. He was there waiting on the roadside with my travel bag. I waved a quick bye(he disliked bidding goodbyes to me and would always look away) and got back in the bus. That is my last visual frame of him. The tall, distinguished figure standing next to the red swift car with my luggage. If I have the date right, it was the 5th,Saturday. On 17th, Thursday evening as I was on my way back from office, it was about 8.30 PM, I got an urgent call from my brother. He asked me to do something urgently with no questions asked and cut call. I did. After which I returned home and called him back hoping the emergency was over. Amma picked the mobile this time, she simply said, "Appa is gone". It did not strike me initially. Where would appa go now?. It took time to register. Or, maybe it never did register in my head. I did not expect my 6 footer, healthy, handsome dad to just disappear the way he did. He had no chronic health issues, maintained healthy routine and had been born into a family of people with robust lifespans. Then the internal struggle began. I felt guilty. For not keeping my promise of going back home to him. For not spending that one last evening with him. For allowing myself to be bullied out of my original decision by people who played no roles in my life. On introspection, I remembered how he who always made me 'unniyappams' and 'ada pradhamans' told me the last time he made, "I dont think I will be able to make this for you anymore. I'm not well".I paid absolutely no heed to that statement!! Why would I? He looked absolutely fine to me. Guilt intensified. Then, I felt anger. Anger at those women. Anger at anyone who dared to live their long lives. Why my appa? And, why on the eve of his 62nd birthday? He lived a life that was useful to so many, on a daily basis. And, he just went? He would have made a wonderful grandpa to my little girl with her love for stories. What wonderful stories he could tell! A zillion real life stories/adventures of his doctoring days in the remotest of places.He would've stacked up all the 'Balaramas' and 'Kalikudukkas'of the world, each year as she came down to Kerala on vacation. He would've been there to keep checking on me from the moment he knew I'd booked airtickets uptill the minute I stepped into his compound. But, it is time I healed. It is time I forgave myself. And, the best way for me to do that would be by reminding myself appa died the way he wanted. "Doctoring is the best profession" he would proclaim, "I can practise till the moment I die". And, that is the way he went. He went while attending to patients in his home clinic. And, in a split second. His face serene (I remember asking amma that), his dress immaculate (the way he always was). I will also heal by making a promise to him. He was someone who was immensely proud of me and could not bear to see me waste time. He kept my first professional visiting card displayed under the glass of his consultation table. I promise to get a hold over my life, one step at a time. I promise to prioritise.

Between You and Me...

 Recently, during  a casual mom & dot banter, we were just taking stock of the 'trusted adults' in our circle. The dot pipes in, 

"Amma, I really like XYZ aunty but don't really feel fully comfortable with Uncle XYZ". 

I say okay and wait...

"...Amma, it's not that he has ever given me cause feel uncomfortable...it is just that I somehow don't feel fully okay..."

She paused, I could sense the small glimmer of 'self doubt' in her own judgement. But I wait. It comes.

"Amma, am I wrong? Is it okay if I don't feel comfortable about someone who has not given me any reason to feel so..."

Listen child...It is perfectly okay. Remember, you never, ever have to explain yourself for not feeling comfortable about someone or something. Trust your instinct & stay away. You have every right to say, I do not like this and move away...always. Never allow anyone to compel you into validating why you feel something or someone is not right. Not now, not ever. And, that someone can be anyone, be it your close of kin, a teacher, your parent's trusted ally...whosoever. 

PS: Was reminded of this conversation in the light of the ongoing Chennai Schools abuse issue...especially a survivor who recounted her harrowing experience. What struck her more than the incident was the fact that her parents did not stand up for her. 

Start young. Look your children in the eye and tell them you are there for them, no matter what! Talk to your kids. Yes, both girl kids & boy kids. Teach them it's okay to say 'No' without guilt.

Random...

Are you someone who confuses 'Empathy' with 'Sympathy' too? I am someone who has worked hard at making myself understand the difference between the two...I don't always succeed but I try. Where am I going with this? Wait a bit... Those of us in Kerala recently woke up to the news of a young lady Banker who commited suicide within her workplace. People speculated as is usual. The debates took a new turn when a note penned by a senior representative of a Bank Employees Union spoke about increasing work stress and a new,target oriented work culture that was evolving within the banking sector. Soon, the note became 'viral' thanks to social media. As is always the case, when one view point gets popular, someone twiddling her/ his thumb over a smartphone elsewhere thinks up an opposing view point. 'We work to live and not the other way round. Every work has its associated work pressure, if one cannot handle that then one should be considered a misfit'...and so and so forth went the 'opinion'. This, somehow, reminded me of an incident that happened in my life when the 'Me too' movement had just started and people were shooting opinions both for and against. Someone close to me, whatsapped a personal forward. It was an opinion piece by a super senior lady doctor, born into a previleged family (upper class plus moneyed, deadly combination and protective factor). She had claimed that the 'Me too' movement was a farce propogated by women who used their sex to get favours and then when the time was right, called foul. She went onto state that she, during her 'illustrious' career never had to face unwanted advances from her male colleagues. She further claimed, it is totally the woman's charector that determines if she is subject to unwanted male advance. I went ballistic reading this. Now, the parallel I see in these two seemingly unconnected incidents is this. Both, the senior lady doctor as well as the person who declared if you cant take the stress, leave the job, speak from the same platform. That protected, hoodwinked platform that does not realise 'Choice' is not a luxury available to all. It is the same when you look at someone who stays in an abusive relationship and proclaim, 'If it were I, I would've walked out'. That is exactly the point. That person is Not you. Neither is that lady Bank Manager who passed on. Neither are the countless women who kept quiet for years before they found their voice. Just remembered this quote by an anonymous author, I'd read a while ago, "You know my name, not my story. You've heard what I've done, not what I've been through..."