I did not realize this pillar of strength for a long time. If Nahida has a golden heart. So does he. My husband Ameeth. Nahida always said that if you knocked on a door hard enough, it would open. Doors did not open for me. Not until I got married. After that I think I only had to stand in front of a door and wonder what was beyond and the door opened. My son and daughter were behind such doors for me. My second and third jobs also were. The opportunity to come to the US was also behind another and the flat we bought with almost zero resources.
We both thought it was our joint fortune. But I think it was mostly the wish of a golden heart. One that does not wish harm for anybody however badly that somebody has hurt him. He does not wear his golden heart upon a sleeve. He camouflages it behind his wicked dancing eyes and flippant one liners. It took a perceptive person like me( I am a pretty good judge of character) almost 10 years to discover this. But there it is. The unselfish heart. Kicking up a successful career to follow my dreams. Always buoying me up and holding me up as an example to his colleagues. Restraining me from being impulsive. Being my sounding board. He has always been there.
He is so rich and yet he thinks himself poor.
You can always find someone who owns a better house and a better car and more money. But to find someone who is rich of heart? You may look all your life and never find such a person. I am lucky that I have.
On his 49th birthday, I wish that he realizes his intrinsic wealth lies within him.
Happy birthday Shona and happiness always ( lies within your reaxh)
Monday, July 02, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
There is time yet to bloom
Today Arijit graduated from elementary to middle school.
We watched his face as names of his classmates were called out for different awards. His name was called out somewhere near the end and he looked surprised as he walked to receive his award.
My heart went out to my little boy. He has not had a cakewalk in elementary school. In a way, he failed to thrive here too at least in the way we Indian parents measure success.
From the time he was in pre-k, we were told he was very shy and reserved. From a vivacious and gregarious 2 year old, he suddenly turned inward one day, while he was performing something in front of relatives and said 'Lajja'. I have not been able to figure why. He had a turbulent kindergarten, with the class teacher picking on a 5 year old as if he were 10. The fact that I doid not meet her often like all the more available moms did not help. I did not start worrying till the first grade. When we were suddenly made aware that he needs help. And all because I never considered homework serious business in his earlier grades. I guess the damage was done. The boy was hyperactive and stayed at home all day with his grandparents. when his middle aged parents came back from work and took on the homework, tempers were at short fuse. If I were him, homework would be anathema for me too.
Then in third grade we moved to the US. Again, he went through untold humiliation in school. His shyness was mistaken for his inability to understand the English language and even though he passed his ESL test thrice, his teachers would not just get convinced much to the detriment of his self confidence.
His fourth grade was the worst. I got panic attacks everytime his teacher called, which was often. Unfortunately we believed in the system and not our little boy. We took him to doctors and even a psychiatrist who told us in no uncertain terms there was nothing wrong with our boy or his IQ. His teachers probably needed counselling. I became a pretty fierce defender after that, and Arijit always seemed surprised when I supported him.
This year my little flower has just begun to bloom. He believes he is going to become a famous cartoonist. He had a smoother year and had many friends and admirers. He wants to go out to play with friends now and goes off to birthday parties on his own. He has conquered some of his shyness with little help from any of us. We have not been protective parents; we have been pretty pushy and very judgemental too. Despite this, he has won.
I was a star performer in school, the brainy one. And I have both consciously and unconsiously wanted him to be that too. But what he is today is much better than what I was at his age. He is a much better human being. And have I not always said that matters most?
So what Arijit, if your ambition was to get the honor roll and you did not make it. You are a winner anyways and I am so proud of you.
We watched his face as names of his classmates were called out for different awards. His name was called out somewhere near the end and he looked surprised as he walked to receive his award.
My heart went out to my little boy. He has not had a cakewalk in elementary school. In a way, he failed to thrive here too at least in the way we Indian parents measure success.
From the time he was in pre-k, we were told he was very shy and reserved. From a vivacious and gregarious 2 year old, he suddenly turned inward one day, while he was performing something in front of relatives and said 'Lajja'. I have not been able to figure why. He had a turbulent kindergarten, with the class teacher picking on a 5 year old as if he were 10. The fact that I doid not meet her often like all the more available moms did not help. I did not start worrying till the first grade. When we were suddenly made aware that he needs help. And all because I never considered homework serious business in his earlier grades. I guess the damage was done. The boy was hyperactive and stayed at home all day with his grandparents. when his middle aged parents came back from work and took on the homework, tempers were at short fuse. If I were him, homework would be anathema for me too.
Then in third grade we moved to the US. Again, he went through untold humiliation in school. His shyness was mistaken for his inability to understand the English language and even though he passed his ESL test thrice, his teachers would not just get convinced much to the detriment of his self confidence.
His fourth grade was the worst. I got panic attacks everytime his teacher called, which was often. Unfortunately we believed in the system and not our little boy. We took him to doctors and even a psychiatrist who told us in no uncertain terms there was nothing wrong with our boy or his IQ. His teachers probably needed counselling. I became a pretty fierce defender after that, and Arijit always seemed surprised when I supported him.
This year my little flower has just begun to bloom. He believes he is going to become a famous cartoonist. He had a smoother year and had many friends and admirers. He wants to go out to play with friends now and goes off to birthday parties on his own. He has conquered some of his shyness with little help from any of us. We have not been protective parents; we have been pretty pushy and very judgemental too. Despite this, he has won.
I was a star performer in school, the brainy one. And I have both consciously and unconsiously wanted him to be that too. But what he is today is much better than what I was at his age. He is a much better human being. And have I not always said that matters most?
So what Arijit, if your ambition was to get the honor roll and you did not make it. You are a winner anyways and I am so proud of you.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Humbled
Yesterday my son paid me a compliment.
He said he wished that I would be his mom again in his next birth. As an afterthought he said, his dad too of course. Because we were really cool and should have been in the GNT.
Not quite a criteria for the best Mom really. I think I was terribly ungracious about the compliment. I think I had a blank and quiziccal expression on my face. A kaleidescope of thoughts were fleeting by. Of being a GNT employee and away from him when he was 3 months old and 'Failing to Thrive' A GNT employee again later when I was pregnant with his sister and was flying around fueling my ambitions and he had pneumonia at home. Months later at a new job neglecting to be the 'homework mom' when he was in his first grade.
Like all working Moms I am constantly running myself through continuous assessments. Am I always there for them? Is the time I am with them 'quality time?' With all the 'Finish your breakfast fast! And come on its time for Karate' I wonder if it is. My moments of truth are those when I hear my little baby say with absolute conviction. That she is not going to go out and work. She is always going to be around for her kids and..she is never going to tell them she has a headache when they want to go to the park.
I am able to take this feedback with more ease and can offer more justifications
I use the time they are in the park to clean up and get dinner ready. On the few occasions I am at the park I sit away from other moms, because I always feel inadequate. I am not up-to-date with the latest summer camp information and the other activity information. Sometimes I miss some school meetings too.
I am constantly surprising myself with my superwoman capabilities. I do a fairly good and fast job at work, when I entertain I do it successfully mostly, I am available for all important occasions of relatives and friends however physically dead I may be. In all my avatars I am doing a pretty neat job. Except as a mom.
But then I wonder how I would be if I were a full time mom? Frustrated with my pickled brains, depressed about not using them most of the time? Unhappy and wasted? what sort of mom would such a woman make?
Someday I will ask my kids this question and from their answer know.
He said he wished that I would be his mom again in his next birth. As an afterthought he said, his dad too of course. Because we were really cool and should have been in the GNT.
Not quite a criteria for the best Mom really. I think I was terribly ungracious about the compliment. I think I had a blank and quiziccal expression on my face. A kaleidescope of thoughts were fleeting by. Of being a GNT employee and away from him when he was 3 months old and 'Failing to Thrive' A GNT employee again later when I was pregnant with his sister and was flying around fueling my ambitions and he had pneumonia at home. Months later at a new job neglecting to be the 'homework mom' when he was in his first grade.
Like all working Moms I am constantly running myself through continuous assessments. Am I always there for them? Is the time I am with them 'quality time?' With all the 'Finish your breakfast fast! And come on its time for Karate' I wonder if it is. My moments of truth are those when I hear my little baby say with absolute conviction. That she is not going to go out and work. She is always going to be around for her kids and..she is never going to tell them she has a headache when they want to go to the park.
I am able to take this feedback with more ease and can offer more justifications
I use the time they are in the park to clean up and get dinner ready. On the few occasions I am at the park I sit away from other moms, because I always feel inadequate. I am not up-to-date with the latest summer camp information and the other activity information. Sometimes I miss some school meetings too.
I am constantly surprising myself with my superwoman capabilities. I do a fairly good and fast job at work, when I entertain I do it successfully mostly, I am available for all important occasions of relatives and friends however physically dead I may be. In all my avatars I am doing a pretty neat job. Except as a mom.
But then I wonder how I would be if I were a full time mom? Frustrated with my pickled brains, depressed about not using them most of the time? Unhappy and wasted? what sort of mom would such a woman make?
Someday I will ask my kids this question and from their answer know.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Failure to Thrive
Ecstatically pregnant with twins to begin with, we were subdued a little at 10 weeks when we were told that one twin did not have a heart beat. The rest of my pregnancy proceeded without much ado except for the usual temperamental ups and downs which was kindly attributed to hormones by my husband. This was our first baby. I enjoyed the tiny movements I felt inside me and we could see that the baby clearly responding to loud thumping music.
The expected date of delivery came and went, and the baby showed no signs of coming. 2 days later, the doctor said she would induce delivery. That night my water broke. However, there was still no pain. Finally after a whole day of waiting and the pain inducer affecting my head more than my delivery, we finally decided to go in for a C-Section. It turned out that was one of the first good things that happened to little Arijit, a bright pink baby boy whose eyes sparkled with amusement. He had some jaundice from which he recovered soon enough and we went home with the baby. I settled down to enjoy the rest of my maternity leave with him.
Our second visit to the pediatrician, when Arijit was a month old was when I felt the first sense of foreboding. The baby had just gained a hundred grams. Subsequent visits grew more and more alarming. The baby was simply not gaining weight! His other milestones were OK though, he turned around at the right age, he smiled radiantly when he was a little under two months and was a frightfully friendly baby though tiny.
We changed the pediatricians and took him for a round of blood tests. Because he was so tiny the whole procedure was a sheer torture for me to witness. I consulted doctors across the globe who told me that this was “Failure to thrive” and asked me a list of questions. They always asked how active he was. And I had to honestly say he was extremely active. By this time 6 months, and unable to sit because of his lack of weight, nothing stopped him from whirling around the house in his walker.
He was a thoroughly enjoyable kid, except for the fact that my heart sank whenever I heard someone say,” Why is he so small?” I became obsessive about his gaining weight.
When he was about 7 months old he came down with high fever and a racking cough. That was when the pediatrician decided to refer us to his ‘guru’. That was the second good thing that happened to Arijit. We took a fretful Arijit to see Dr. Bhargav who took one look at him and said “ I hope we are not too late” A series of X rays and tests were organized and the X ray revealed that he had a congenital heart defect. The defect by itself was not complicated but the fact that it was diagnosed late and he was so terribly underweight could be fatal we were told. He weighed about 4.6 kgs. ( approx 9 pounds) at 7 months of age.
Somehow, despite our best intentions to give him the only the best, none of the earlier pediatricians were able to diagnose the real cause for his lack of growth. Since he had one ASD and two VSDs his heart was pumping away furiously. This was consuming calories. He needed to be on a high fat diet. And surgery was the only way out.
It did not even take us a day to decide to go for the surgery. The only delay was in arranging the funds. The doctors also wanted to wait to see if the high fat diet would help him gain weight.
In the meantime, I found myself getting extremely superstitious and looking for signs from God. Mostly begging for my son’s life and sometimes raging at Him, I asked the inevitable “Why us?” question several times. One night I was lying in bed next to Arijit despairing with my eyes closed, I felt some gentle comforting touches on my cheek. I opened my eyes to see little Arijit comforting me with a smile.
From that day on, I resolved not to despair. I told everybody who came to sympathize that Arijit needed their good wishes not their sympathy because he was going to be just fine. I saw more concern in people’s eyes, but I just kept that moment with Arijit in front of me and strengthened my resolve.
There are other pictures which are clearly etched in my mind. My husband had a very man to man relationship with Arijit. He was in a constant stage of denial when we investigating the cause of his failure to thrive. He strongly believed that the boy would simply shoot up one day and there was nothing to be worried about. One day shortly after we came to know, I caught him quickly snatch the baby bring him up close to his face and give him a very emotional kiss on his heart.
Meanwhile, things seemed to be getting worse. Arijit kept contracting minor ailments all of which kept pushing the date of his surgery backwards. He had the conjunctivitis, which though a minor ailment apparently has serious post operative complications. Finally when he was through with his infections, dengue broke out in the city. We went ahead with the surgery despite the dengue.
I was in the hospital with him for his pre-checks. I stayed awake looking at him every night. He was so happy to have me to himself, and kept gurgling to express his appreciation.
October 3rd 1996 was the date scheduled for the surgery. The previous night, the surgeon had come in and educated me about the risk …25% rate of risk given his low body weight. The anesthetist had come and gone telling me how they would gently put him to sleep. It was easily the worst night of my life.
My baby actually went in cheerfully with the band of green masked surgeons not in the least terrorized by their appearance. I quickly sat down to gather myself before going down to meet the concerned band of relatives and friends who had gathered to wish my son well.
Looking at the concerned faces did not help. Especially pitiful were the expression of my parents who looked after Arijit when I went to work. I paced up and down and was grateful to be joined by my friend from many years in my pacing. We talked as we paced of things other than Arijit and the operation.
The surgery was scheduled for 3 hours. There was one moment of sheer agony when our name was called one hour through the surgery. It turned out they wanted some donors for B+ve blood group. When it was almost 3 hours, my husband could wait no longer. The announcement for the parents of Arijit came almost on the dot and we went in to see our son in the recovery room. We had been warned before, but it was still a shock to witness the tiny body with 18 tubes running through almost every organ of the body. The operation had gone off without event, we were told, but he would be in Intensive Care for sometime under close observation.
This was not the end of our torturous journey. Now relegated to wait in the reception, we shared our experience with other parents with similar plights.. sometimes worse.
I did the day shift and my husband the night. The first night when we were changing shifts we were horrified to hear loud wails. From a mother who had brought in a blue baby. She did not want the child to be cut open and operated. The second night, the hospital lost a baby. There were no wails, but intensive pain in the eyes of the parents. The baby had contracted dengue. These were times we felt selfish to hold on to hope for our son who had the highest risk of them all.
Then there was little Baby More, who had flown down immediately after birth with her father. She was hooked on to the artificial respirator and would valiantly try to suck her thumb through it all. When her mom had recovered enough to travel to her, she went in with me to see her baby. The baby used to be opposite Arijit. Since the last visit, she was shifted next to Arijit. The mom was obviously told to go to the baby opposite, so she went and stood by the wrong baby. I went by Arijit and did my customary talk about his being strong and a hero and coming home soon. I did this every time I went in. By the time I noticed, some of our time had lapsed. I led the mother to the right baby.
When Arijit was conscious, the third day after surgery, the doctors asked me to talk to him. As soon as I opened my mask, Arijit went berserk. He tried to get up, wanted to be picked up and started crying. I was sent away. I did not go in to see him for 2 days after that for fear of upsetting him. There cannot be a worse punishment for a mother. All he wanted was to be picked up and be comforted. But because he was bound to so many life-saving machines, I could not do that.
When they finally shifted him out of the Intensive Care into a room, both of us were pretty cranky. The nurses came in every 8 hours to pump the excess fluid from his lungs and Arijit hated it.
After 13 days, which seemed like 13 months, we were told that Arijit was ready to be discharged.
When we took him home and he sat in his walker, life seemed to be complete. We slept that night like we had not for many nights, no nurses coming in to wake him up. In the next one week he had gained 500 gms( 1 pound) and he kept making progress. Soon he was sitting up and then crawling and 6 months after the surgery, we were told we did not have to visit the hospital for the next one year. He was thriving.
9 years today, Arijit thrives. Still small for his age, he is great at computers. He is best at negotiating though and can work his way through the toughest deals. We land up poorer every time we get into a deal with him; but we are richer for having this wiry fighter in our lives.
The expected date of delivery came and went, and the baby showed no signs of coming. 2 days later, the doctor said she would induce delivery. That night my water broke. However, there was still no pain. Finally after a whole day of waiting and the pain inducer affecting my head more than my delivery, we finally decided to go in for a C-Section. It turned out that was one of the first good things that happened to little Arijit, a bright pink baby boy whose eyes sparkled with amusement. He had some jaundice from which he recovered soon enough and we went home with the baby. I settled down to enjoy the rest of my maternity leave with him.
Our second visit to the pediatrician, when Arijit was a month old was when I felt the first sense of foreboding. The baby had just gained a hundred grams. Subsequent visits grew more and more alarming. The baby was simply not gaining weight! His other milestones were OK though, he turned around at the right age, he smiled radiantly when he was a little under two months and was a frightfully friendly baby though tiny.
We changed the pediatricians and took him for a round of blood tests. Because he was so tiny the whole procedure was a sheer torture for me to witness. I consulted doctors across the globe who told me that this was “Failure to thrive” and asked me a list of questions. They always asked how active he was. And I had to honestly say he was extremely active. By this time 6 months, and unable to sit because of his lack of weight, nothing stopped him from whirling around the house in his walker.
He was a thoroughly enjoyable kid, except for the fact that my heart sank whenever I heard someone say,” Why is he so small?” I became obsessive about his gaining weight.
When he was about 7 months old he came down with high fever and a racking cough. That was when the pediatrician decided to refer us to his ‘guru’. That was the second good thing that happened to Arijit. We took a fretful Arijit to see Dr. Bhargav who took one look at him and said “ I hope we are not too late” A series of X rays and tests were organized and the X ray revealed that he had a congenital heart defect. The defect by itself was not complicated but the fact that it was diagnosed late and he was so terribly underweight could be fatal we were told. He weighed about 4.6 kgs. ( approx 9 pounds) at 7 months of age.
Somehow, despite our best intentions to give him the only the best, none of the earlier pediatricians were able to diagnose the real cause for his lack of growth. Since he had one ASD and two VSDs his heart was pumping away furiously. This was consuming calories. He needed to be on a high fat diet. And surgery was the only way out.
It did not even take us a day to decide to go for the surgery. The only delay was in arranging the funds. The doctors also wanted to wait to see if the high fat diet would help him gain weight.
In the meantime, I found myself getting extremely superstitious and looking for signs from God. Mostly begging for my son’s life and sometimes raging at Him, I asked the inevitable “Why us?” question several times. One night I was lying in bed next to Arijit despairing with my eyes closed, I felt some gentle comforting touches on my cheek. I opened my eyes to see little Arijit comforting me with a smile.
From that day on, I resolved not to despair. I told everybody who came to sympathize that Arijit needed their good wishes not their sympathy because he was going to be just fine. I saw more concern in people’s eyes, but I just kept that moment with Arijit in front of me and strengthened my resolve.
There are other pictures which are clearly etched in my mind. My husband had a very man to man relationship with Arijit. He was in a constant stage of denial when we investigating the cause of his failure to thrive. He strongly believed that the boy would simply shoot up one day and there was nothing to be worried about. One day shortly after we came to know, I caught him quickly snatch the baby bring him up close to his face and give him a very emotional kiss on his heart.
Meanwhile, things seemed to be getting worse. Arijit kept contracting minor ailments all of which kept pushing the date of his surgery backwards. He had the conjunctivitis, which though a minor ailment apparently has serious post operative complications. Finally when he was through with his infections, dengue broke out in the city. We went ahead with the surgery despite the dengue.
I was in the hospital with him for his pre-checks. I stayed awake looking at him every night. He was so happy to have me to himself, and kept gurgling to express his appreciation.
October 3rd 1996 was the date scheduled for the surgery. The previous night, the surgeon had come in and educated me about the risk …25% rate of risk given his low body weight. The anesthetist had come and gone telling me how they would gently put him to sleep. It was easily the worst night of my life.
My baby actually went in cheerfully with the band of green masked surgeons not in the least terrorized by their appearance. I quickly sat down to gather myself before going down to meet the concerned band of relatives and friends who had gathered to wish my son well.
Looking at the concerned faces did not help. Especially pitiful were the expression of my parents who looked after Arijit when I went to work. I paced up and down and was grateful to be joined by my friend from many years in my pacing. We talked as we paced of things other than Arijit and the operation.
The surgery was scheduled for 3 hours. There was one moment of sheer agony when our name was called one hour through the surgery. It turned out they wanted some donors for B+ve blood group. When it was almost 3 hours, my husband could wait no longer. The announcement for the parents of Arijit came almost on the dot and we went in to see our son in the recovery room. We had been warned before, but it was still a shock to witness the tiny body with 18 tubes running through almost every organ of the body. The operation had gone off without event, we were told, but he would be in Intensive Care for sometime under close observation.
This was not the end of our torturous journey. Now relegated to wait in the reception, we shared our experience with other parents with similar plights.. sometimes worse.
I did the day shift and my husband the night. The first night when we were changing shifts we were horrified to hear loud wails. From a mother who had brought in a blue baby. She did not want the child to be cut open and operated. The second night, the hospital lost a baby. There were no wails, but intensive pain in the eyes of the parents. The baby had contracted dengue. These were times we felt selfish to hold on to hope for our son who had the highest risk of them all.
Then there was little Baby More, who had flown down immediately after birth with her father. She was hooked on to the artificial respirator and would valiantly try to suck her thumb through it all. When her mom had recovered enough to travel to her, she went in with me to see her baby. The baby used to be opposite Arijit. Since the last visit, she was shifted next to Arijit. The mom was obviously told to go to the baby opposite, so she went and stood by the wrong baby. I went by Arijit and did my customary talk about his being strong and a hero and coming home soon. I did this every time I went in. By the time I noticed, some of our time had lapsed. I led the mother to the right baby.
When Arijit was conscious, the third day after surgery, the doctors asked me to talk to him. As soon as I opened my mask, Arijit went berserk. He tried to get up, wanted to be picked up and started crying. I was sent away. I did not go in to see him for 2 days after that for fear of upsetting him. There cannot be a worse punishment for a mother. All he wanted was to be picked up and be comforted. But because he was bound to so many life-saving machines, I could not do that.
When they finally shifted him out of the Intensive Care into a room, both of us were pretty cranky. The nurses came in every 8 hours to pump the excess fluid from his lungs and Arijit hated it.
After 13 days, which seemed like 13 months, we were told that Arijit was ready to be discharged.
When we took him home and he sat in his walker, life seemed to be complete. We slept that night like we had not for many nights, no nurses coming in to wake him up. In the next one week he had gained 500 gms( 1 pound) and he kept making progress. Soon he was sitting up and then crawling and 6 months after the surgery, we were told we did not have to visit the hospital for the next one year. He was thriving.
9 years today, Arijit thrives. Still small for his age, he is great at computers. He is best at negotiating though and can work his way through the toughest deals. We land up poorer every time we get into a deal with him; but we are richer for having this wiry fighter in our lives.
A Working Mom
I heard her in the kitchen sometime at night
“Mom where are you?” I called out in fright.
“Clearing away sweetheart. Go to bed. Sweet dreams”
Were the last words I heard as I drifted off to sleep.
I woke up to the clutter of dishes in the morning. “Do you ever sleep?” I wondered
“Yes of course. Between the hours you do,” she replied.
And then the rush hour began
Breakfasts to be made lunches to be packed, clothes to be put out…darn where’s that missing sock?
“Where’s your water bottle baby?” “I forgot it in school” she muttered
Oh shoot where’s the substitute?
Homework checked once again and notes to the teacher and WOW
There she is ready to go!
It is now 5.45 in the evening. I am in the daycare
“Mom,” I call her “You are late.”
“I am going to be late”, she says “Dad will pick you up today”
“But Mom my project!” I wail
“Just like you precious, my boss remembered his too at the eleventh hour” she said.
I fret and fume through my homework my eyes on the clock.
At 7.30 she stumbles in her cell phone clutched to her ear
Straight to the stove. Cooking for dinner has begun
“Mom my project,” I begin
She shoots instructions over her shoulder, one eye on the stove the other on my sister.
The phone rings ..its a call from granny
“Bulu Mama is coming to see you tomorrow.
And you know he loves the kaddu kofta you make.
Yes,yes beta I know you are busy, but he does not come everyday does he?
And he loves you all so much, he does”
Dad is rolling his eyes…”Is there kaddu in the house?” he cries.
“I will use the doodhi instead. He had the same last time and cannot tell” she says
It looks like peace will reign for the night, but the phone rings again,
It’s the aunty from mom’s office. She seems upset and Mom asks her to calm down.
“He is under pressure and we have to bear it.” She says
“Don’t take any decision under stress. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” she says.
Another call, this time from London “The paper’s due tomorrow babes it says”
“Oh dear how can that be?” Mom says. For the first time I see she is distressed
At night that day I hear murmurs from their room;
“So no promotion for me” she says, “because I took off when the baby was sick”
“But what about the work you did and the award you won? “ Dad asks.
“It seems that this overrides that”
The next morning it’s rush time again.
Yippee its pancakes for breakfast! Dad’s salad gets packed and arrangements for Bulu Mama’s dinner is on.
Its another day, we are on our way, but wait. “What is it Mom’s having for lunch?”
“Mom where are you?” I called out in fright.
“Clearing away sweetheart. Go to bed. Sweet dreams”
Were the last words I heard as I drifted off to sleep.
I woke up to the clutter of dishes in the morning. “Do you ever sleep?” I wondered
“Yes of course. Between the hours you do,” she replied.
And then the rush hour began
Breakfasts to be made lunches to be packed, clothes to be put out…darn where’s that missing sock?
“Where’s your water bottle baby?” “I forgot it in school” she muttered
Oh shoot where’s the substitute?
Homework checked once again and notes to the teacher and WOW
There she is ready to go!
It is now 5.45 in the evening. I am in the daycare
“Mom,” I call her “You are late.”
“I am going to be late”, she says “Dad will pick you up today”
“But Mom my project!” I wail
“Just like you precious, my boss remembered his too at the eleventh hour” she said.
I fret and fume through my homework my eyes on the clock.
At 7.30 she stumbles in her cell phone clutched to her ear
Straight to the stove. Cooking for dinner has begun
“Mom my project,” I begin
She shoots instructions over her shoulder, one eye on the stove the other on my sister.
The phone rings ..its a call from granny
“Bulu Mama is coming to see you tomorrow.
And you know he loves the kaddu kofta you make.
Yes,yes beta I know you are busy, but he does not come everyday does he?
And he loves you all so much, he does”
Dad is rolling his eyes…”Is there kaddu in the house?” he cries.
“I will use the doodhi instead. He had the same last time and cannot tell” she says
It looks like peace will reign for the night, but the phone rings again,
It’s the aunty from mom’s office. She seems upset and Mom asks her to calm down.
“He is under pressure and we have to bear it.” She says
“Don’t take any decision under stress. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” she says.
Another call, this time from London “The paper’s due tomorrow babes it says”
“Oh dear how can that be?” Mom says. For the first time I see she is distressed
At night that day I hear murmurs from their room;
“So no promotion for me” she says, “because I took off when the baby was sick”
“But what about the work you did and the award you won? “ Dad asks.
“It seems that this overrides that”
The next morning it’s rush time again.
Yippee its pancakes for breakfast! Dad’s salad gets packed and arrangements for Bulu Mama’s dinner is on.
Its another day, we are on our way, but wait. “What is it Mom’s having for lunch?”
Monday, January 01, 2007
21 years of Corporate life
This day has come and gone every year without my noticing it. This year I stopped to notice and remember...
21 years ago, on the 1st of February 1986, I walked into the factory gates of J.K. Synthetics starry eyed with a very clear vision ...to be a CEO of my own company in 5 years. Obviously a target not met. One can philosophize and maybe mean it too ...to an extent, that the journey was richer than any destination.
I thought today of what I have achieved so far and what I have not. I have worked with passion at most of my jobs , maybe putting my heart over my head. I have not taken too many risks and jumped too many jobs.I have walked into doors that opened for me, but have not spent too much time knocking on them, I have made some good friends along the way and possibly also because of my extreme candidness, left some thinking not so kindly about me.
In retrospect, I also think I have spent maybe too much time on some dead end jobs especially at the beginning of my career. I strolled when I should have galloped. But also in retrospect, I have lived my life when I strolled. There are many things I would like to change about the way I lived my life but many more I would live all over again
I wanted to share this day with you, some of the most important people I have met in the last 21 years and thank you for your contribution in my career life.
Life has just begun, all over again!
21 years ago, on the 1st of February 1986, I walked into the factory gates of J.K. Synthetics starry eyed with a very clear vision ...to be a CEO of my own company in 5 years. Obviously a target not met. One can philosophize and maybe mean it too ...to an extent, that the journey was richer than any destination.
I thought today of what I have achieved so far and what I have not. I have worked with passion at most of my jobs , maybe putting my heart over my head. I have not taken too many risks and jumped too many jobs.I have walked into doors that opened for me, but have not spent too much time knocking on them, I have made some good friends along the way and possibly also because of my extreme candidness, left some thinking not so kindly about me.
In retrospect, I also think I have spent maybe too much time on some dead end jobs especially at the beginning of my career. I strolled when I should have galloped. But also in retrospect, I have lived my life when I strolled. There are many things I would like to change about the way I lived my life but many more I would live all over again
I wanted to share this day with you, some of the most important people I have met in the last 21 years and thank you for your contribution in my career life.
Life has just begun, all over again!
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