r2i dreams - A Tale of Three NRIs

It is November and there is a pleasant nip in the air in Bengaluru. Even Chennai, that forever hot city, has a cool breeze wafting through the dusty streets. Winter is actually a welcome change around here. Sweaters, mufflers, scarves and ear warmers are out from our suitcases in Bengaluru.  Chennai's denizens have their monkey caps and mufflers out for early morning and evening strolls. I can't help smiling at this because for all the talk of winter, the temperature in Chennai is still in the 70s. I wonder what these good citizens will say to American mid-west winters with lows in the teens and highs barely touching 32 F.  For my part, I am thankful I am out of those winters now.

It has been two years since we returned to India for good. I spent the better part of last year writing my first book -- r2i dreams. Returning to India after a decade of life in the US has been interesting. Writing about it was even more so. It prompted me to examine my life, my choices and attempt to put them into words. Along the way, I remembered small details that I'd long forgotten and archived in my memory vaults. The first shock of America; the struggles of graduate student life; the manifold pleasures of working life in the US; the chaotic beauty that is India etc..

In these two years, I've had my ups and downs, navigated twists and turns, learnt some life lessons and ended up a little bit wiser. This r2i journey has also been one of introspection. Making a sea change in one's life always gives one pause. It forces you to rethink priorities, evaluate what is really essential and show you the compromises you can actually put up with.

Last week, one of my relatives who is still struggling to make the r2i decision asked me to explain logically why she should return back to India. I merely shrugged my shoulders.

"You either want to return or you don't. There's no right or wrong."

"But you must've considered all the pros and cons logically, right? You don't make such decisions blindly."

I merely smiled and shook my head.

Returning to India is like falling in love -- your heart leads and your brain follows. You do it first and then, because you are in love, everything just falls in place. Little nits don't seem like a big deal anymore.

Our stories in r2i dreams are the stories of millions of NRIs. Some of us come back, some of us don't. But the fun is in the journey. Come, travel with us and read our stories! Go pick up our book on amazon.com or pothi.com (if you are in India)! :-)

Roots

A couple of years ago, we tried to separate a banana plant from its offspring. Growing banana plants in the midwest US is a rather difficult job. The plants have to be bought inside for the tough winter and therefore have to be in pots. Ours was a relatively young plant in a small pot. All we had to do was get the plant out of the pot, remove the baby and put it in a separate pot. Easy peasy, right?

Wrenching the plant out of its pot turned out to be quite a job. When the plant was finally heaved out, we were stunned. The plant had deceptively deep, extensive roots. No wonder it didn't want to come out.

Our move out of Lexington is sort of similar. I am discovering roots I didn't know I had until I tried to uproot myself. Some of it is rather trivial and relates to the human need for routines. For instance, I am used to seeing a neighbor take her morning jog at a certain time every day no matter what the weather is. Our next door neighbor always waters his lawn on a certain schedule. I am used to the neighborhood kids skateboarding and racing their remote-controlled ATV on the road during the summer. I know these people through their routines and I have them slotted into my daily life. Disrupting that life is stressful. But this can and will be overcome pretty soon.

What's harder is establishing a good team of service providers. Here, we have a go-to person for everything: realtor, cleaning lady, doctor, pediatrician, mechanic, plumber, painter etc...All of them have been vetted carefully and we have a level of trust that can only come with years of familiarity. To think of establishing all this from scratch back in India seems a bit daunting.

There's also the social aspect of it all. I know what to expect from my friends here. We have our patterns of conversation - kids, work-life, vacations, weekends, promotions etc..I wonder how it'll be back in India. Are people so different really? Aren't human concerns the same everywhere?

If there's one thing I know for sure, it is that it'll all turn out okay in the end. As a child, I was used to moving every so often and I always went through an emotional pattern in a new city - hatred, curiosity, grudging acceptance, familiarity and finally, fondness.

I assume I'll have the same reaction this time around as well. Except I am doing it after a gap of about 9 years and I've forgotten the feeling of moving. So this journey is going to be a re-discovery of sorts for me personally. I just hope it is memorable...:)

Wasp's nest

I am not an intrepid person when it comes to tangling with nature. I'd rather not attempt "survivor in the wild" type stuff if I can avoid it at all. I have a healthy fear of wild animals, creepy crawlies and such. Mostly, I think it is ignorance. Who knows what a scared turtle might do when you go near it? I don't, do you?

A lot of people do know though. A couple of months ago, I took G to a pond nearby for a play date. I was chatting with my friend as we watched the kids throw rocks in the pond. Suddenly, a snake flashed past my right foot into some bushes. I ran screaming some 10 feet away. S, my friend, calmly wandered over to the bushes and started poking around to find the snake. He suspected that it was just a harmless water snake judging by its color but wanted to make sure it was not a copperhead. The copperhead is the only poisonous snake in Kentucky and it was mating season. See, that's the sort of information I never know and I'll never go poking round bushes. Snake = run is my simple philosophy whether it is poisonous or not. S, on the other hand, knows all about snakes, turtles and fishes. He could even spy a fish underwater with his bare eyes. All I saw was mucky water with some vegetation. Go figure.

Anyway, the point is, sometimes if you are ignorant, you do stupid things. Like photographing a wasp's nest up close because it looked so cool. I didn't know they were wasps. I certainly had no idea that bees sting when provoked but wasps just sting at random just because. Yikes. I spent a good 15 minutes up close with the wasps. Thankfully, got away unscathed and as ignorant as ever until I posted this photo on Facebook....:)

The things you can tell..

Our house has been up for sale for about a month and a half. We've had a lot of traffic through the house including multiple showings a day sometimes. The owners have to be out of the house when the house is shown. So we never get to actually see the buyers. But I get curious. So I look for clues when we get back. And its amazing how much you can pick up about people by just looking at the trail!

Most realtors leave behind their visiting card as a courtesy to the owners to let them know they were in there. They thoughtfully turn off the lights and lock the doors behind them. One of them was even kind enough to snuff out a scented candle I'd left burning upstairs and left a note about it.

And then there are times when you get back to the house to see all closet doors open, every single light ablaze in the house, doors unlocked and no visiting card. I can always find out who the realtor was that showed the house but still, it almost feels like an intrusion. I caught myself thinking I wouldn't want such careless people to own my house because that's pretty much how they'd treat it too.

Our realtor told us that leaving back visiting cards is an old-school courtesy that's fast fading amongst the new crop of realtors. I did notice that most realtors that left their  cards back looked middle-aged or at least old fashioned..:) A good thing, I think, in this case.

Family

There's an American kid about G's age who lives down the street. He has his grandparents, aunt, cousins and other extended family living in Lexington. His older cousins take him under their wing and teach him to shoot hoops, play ball and read books. He has the benefit of the wisdom of adults other than his parents.  It is....how families should be.

I feel wistful that G would never have all these relationships if we continue to live in the US. No grandparents or aunts or uncles or cousins or extended relationships to help him through life. That's a melancholy thought if there's any.

There's a lot of self-righteous talk amongst Indians about how we value family and we're not like "those Americans". But, come to think of it, it seems like a lot of us Indians here in the US are the ones that have our priorities wrong.

Is living in a foreign land worth family and other ties? Maybe. Maybe not. That's a question we have to answer to our consciences when we go to bed at night everyday.

Work-life...

...balance is in the air these days. Most working, young moms are pre-occupied with it. I've decided there's only work-life imbalance. How minimal you can keep this imbalance is the game of the day. Some days, the imbalance tilts toward work. On some, towards home. But I don't think anyone can keep it perfectly balanced. The sooner I accepted this, the more contented I became as a working mom.

There have been days when I've dropped the ball at home foregoing time with baby G. Those are the hard days when I feel guilty and sad that I've had to make this choice. But work-wise, those days were probably the most satisfying. I would've cracked a hard problem or written some miraculous code. The personal fulfilment that comes from that is hard to brush away.

Anyway, you can tell I am caught in the classic dilemma -- to work or not to work. And I don't have any answers yet. But one good thing has come out of my personal Motherhood journey: I truly, really understand the plight of working mothers from the previous generation.

These women, at least in India, were probably judged too harshly for opting to work. No matter how hard they worked in the office, society expected them to put in equal hours at home. If not, they were condemned to the "bad mother" or "bad daughter-in-law" status. So these women would put in 14 hour workdays, commute back home and immediately jump into making fluffy, white idlis for the folks at home. How did they do it? Hats off to them!

Where is the professionalism?

I've gotten used to people knowing their stuff in the US. From personal trainers to dog walkers to house cleaners, most people know the ins-and-outs of their business and will confidently answer questions. In the process, they also educate you. In short, you come out of a conversation in the US feeling productive. 

In India, it shocks me how irresponsible professionals can be. I walked into SBI on some personal business recently. I took a seat with the nearest teller. The lady was busy writing something in a ledger. I waited for some sign of acknowledgement or welcome. None was forthcoming. She looked up, nodded, started sipping some tea and talked to her colleague next door.

After about 5 minutes, I was asked what I wanted. I told her and her first response was, 

"Last week, another NRI asked the same thing. We simply can't do that because we don't have the originating bank info."

"I transferred electronically. Surely the bank will have some means of tracking it down?"

"Last week, this lady asked the same thing. Not possible."

"What information do you need? I will provide it."

"Do you have the originating bank info?"

"Yes, I'll write it down"

"We can't do this."

I was getting exasperated by how this idiot lady was hung up on the problem, not the solution. I finally had to barge in on the manager, who helped me out. 

All this leads me to wonder:

1. How does this poor bank manager deal with daily work life with such stupid underlings? 

2. How does any business get transacted given this babu mentality?

3. When is customer service going to become more than lip service? 

4. Is there no pride in the job one is doing?

I am not one of those NRIs that constantly crib about India. But, as a working professional myself, it shocks me that people could work in an industry for years and not be able to grasp the basics of their job. Sigh. 

TM Krishna's interview in "The Hindu"

In this day and age, almost every public personality gives media-savvy answers designed to build their "brand". There's nothing wrong with that but most people end up giving cliched answers like beauty queens.

This interview by T.M. Krishna came as a breath of fresh air this morning. His answers feel genuine, honest and real. I, for one, could go for that every time.

The Importance Of Women In the Workforce

My workplace gender ratio is tipped heavily toward our male kind. I happen to be the youngest employee and the youngest female in my office.

For most parts, I am not complaining. Working with men is easy mainly because there's no tip-toeing around feelings. You get upset with a guy for something, you can tell him,

"I don't like this. I am upset with you."

The great thing is you can be sure this will not be interpreted in any other way. i.e. he won't think you are upset with him because you forgot to invite him to lunch last week. It will never occur to him to think you are getting even with him because of some minor tiff 3 years ago. He will most definitely not think you are upset with him because he forgot to say bye to you on the way out yesterday. All the above things a woman can and will think if you happen to tell her off.  It just makes life a tad difficult because you have to be very careful what you say.

With men, it is very straightforward. You say exactly what you think and most of the times, they take it at face value. The good thing too is that they move on. Within a couple of days, they will forget about it and it will be as if nothing happened.

But the downside, if you ask me, of a male-majority environment is that there's no warmth, so to speak. Not that men cannot be warm. But they're mostly practical, solution-oriented and never indulge in boring old emotional behavior.

Consider this: when a woman announces she's pregnant or about to get married, (most) female colleagues will squeal with delight, hug her, share stories with her and immediately start planning a celebratory lunch. When I announced to my male colleagues about my pregnancy, one of them smiled and said,

"Congratulations. So, you planning to take epidural?"

You could almost hear a comical, deflating sound in the background -- the sound of my happy bubble bursting -- when you get these kinds of responses. Another male colleague  asked me if I had started thinking of daycare. What, already?

The other drawback is that if you are a woman in a male-dominated workforce, you will never, ever be interested in 90% of the conversations that swirl around. Plumbing, for instance, seems to be a hot topic in my workplace. I never cease to be amazed at how men can get excited about broken, moldy pipes in dark, damp, rat infested places. They will positively beam at you and expect you to commend them when they describe how they found the exact nut or alan key or wrench or whatchamacallit to fix this exciting plumbing problem. I usually go,

"Erm..okay?"

Ooh, here's a good one: the manifold virtues of having a big potty in the bathroom. The husband and his friends have beaten this topic to pulp, I think.

You get my drift. Talk to me about books (Why do men never discuss books, by the way?), movies, fashion, food and I would take it any day over discussions about potties, plumbing and the virtues of having a wonderful hub cap in the rear wheels of your car.

If not for anything else, we need more women in the workforce just to promote warmth, organize baby showers, farewell brunches, halloween parties and other fun stuff in life!

Excuse me. I have to go spread some good conversation in my office now.

Goodnight Moon

The little man is getting progressively harder to put to bed at night. The only way to calm him down is a series of complicated steps culminating in a bed time story. I've been reading "Goodnight Moon" for the past few nights. Yesterday, S picked up the story reading bit in high spirits and ended up doing a mini lecture demonstration on the ills of children's books.

So, shall we read this book, G? Let's see, "Goodnight Moon". 

"In the great green room, there was a telephone, a lamp and a red balloon.." 

Why is there a red balloon in this room?

"… and a picture of a cow jumping over the moon."

Huh?  Little G, cows never jump over the moon. Besides, what cow jumps like this? Feels like a long jumper trying to set a world record. Okay, whatever.

"…three bears sitting on chairs"

Why are three bears sitting like they're in timeout? Have you ever seen bears sit on chairs, G? 

Goodnight nobody?! Why does my son have to say good night to nothing? What is this book that your mom has got you? 

The upshot of his tirade was that by the time he was done, G was heavy lidded, half asleep. And I had a good laugh listening to his commentary. According to my dear husband, Goodnight Moon was written by a disgruntled parent who, upon seeing all the silly children's books on the market making millions, decided to write a silly one themselves. 

I confess I am not a big fan of Goodnight Moon either. But hey, it works with the little human and that's what really matters in the end. 

Virtual Persona Non-Grata

A few months ago, I received an e-mail from a gentleman in India looking for a bride. He laid out his qualifications in great detail and implored me to let him know if I knew of anyone suitable in the US. In my post-delivery, sleep deprived state, I sympathized with him mentally and promptly forgot about it. A couple of days later, he e-mailed me again. Did I find anyone suitable, he queried, and would I mind calling him?

A few months later, another gentleman who was new to Lexington called me and requested me to arrange accommodations  for him. Then it was a developer from Tanjore who wanted to sell coconut groves for a very reasonable price.

The result of all this is that I've developed a very complex relationship with my virtual existence including this blog. I enjoy blogging but I can't do it with the same naivete I had 4 years ago. Alas, many of my blog posts languish in draft mode and never see the light of day because I keep wondering, "Should I really be making this public information?"

My better half wisely recommends staying away from Orkut, Facebook, blogs et al. These are all time killers, he expounds. And as additional gyaan, he tells me I am indirectly contributing to earth pollution by encouraging the growth of huge server farms the likes of Google, Facebook etc..which gobble up electricity, water etc..

Gulp. Do I really want that on my karma?

After getting me all confused, S went onto say, "You really shouldn't be overthinking this, you know."

Yeah, right.

So here's my mind, all loaded with thoughts of the earth, karma, privacy, men selling coconut groves in Tanjore, the pitiable state of Indian bachelors, G's strange head banging habit, my ever-constant weight..the list goes on. It is a wonder I can even function much less write a blog.

Musings about raising babies in the US and other related things

We are officially back to work now. G is officially included in the "We" because he manages to sit in on conference calls with me and even chimes in sometimes with an, "Ah-goooooo", nodding his head very sagely and thumping our home office desk. Yup, that's working life with a small baby in tow.

The Parents left about a couple of weeks back just as I started work and sure enough, we were crisis mode from the get-go.

S couldn't get vacation. I obviously couldn't get any vacation because ummm, I just got off it. So, until my MIL arrived about 3 weeks later, we were ON OUR OWN. With the baby. For the first time. And both of us were working full-time. Eeeeeks.

G promptly decided to catch a cold, his first, to test his parents' mettle. Okay, I shouldn't blame him really. The crowded, sick waiting room at Central Baptist hospital was the culprit. Seriously, that hospital needs some windows and a make-over. S & I were up 3 nights in a row trying to help G get some sleep. In the process, we didn't get any sleep, of course.

To make things more interesting, I caught G's cold as well. So here we were, mom and son, with congested nose and a cough to boot. Poor S was at wit's end.

The first thing that gets chopped off our "todo" list when things are this bad is: cooking. It is very difficult to run a 24x7 kitchen when you have work + sick baby + no help. A lot of well-meaning folks asked us to cook for an entire week and freeze it. Alas, they don't know that both hubby and I have 4-foot long tongues and absolutely refuse to have the same food more than twice in a row. So, we made do with sandwiches and to-go subs from the ever reliable Subway.

We survived.

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There's a new baby store in town: "Buy buy baby". How much more obviously consumeristic can you get with the name, right? Everytime I walk into this store, I am tempted to buy something or the other for the baby. But I've managed to resist most times. There's this teeny-tiny voice in my head that always goes, "Do we really, really, really need this?" The answer is "No" almost all the time.

Do we really need a high-chair? My parents managed to raise two kids without one. If humanity depended on high-chairs, I guess we'd be extinct by now.

Do I really need that cute diaper bag? Umm, not really. I can make do with umpteen bags in the house. They're all unglamorous but will make do.

Do we need cups and spoons for baby? My mom (and others) suggested that we use our fingers first to feed the baby (By the way, its the recommended way too because its warm and familiar to the baby).

The list goes on and on. But in man-power starved US of A, some things have to be done to make our lives easier. So we got the high-chair and other miscellania. I did manage to resist the cute diaper bag though.

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I've begun noticing other children/babies around me now that I have one. One thing that really scares me is how accomplished all these desi kids are. There are all these educational toys, videos, books, audio Cds and what-not to help raise a brilliant baby. And most children here are wayyy above average. They sign, sing, dance, go to chess tournaments, take advanced classes and do umpteen other things I never did as a kid.

But I can't make up my mind as to whether all this stimulation is good or not. My childhood was fairly simple and straightforward. I turned out okay, didn't I ? And so did thousands or millions of other children of my generation. I am not exactly dumb either. So, if eventually, we all reach our maximum intelligence potential anyway, what's the point of doing a lot of things in one's childhood? Are we, in some unknowing way, ruining it for our kids?

I'd love to hear from you.

Currently, the most happening thing in our lives is...

... monitoring G's pees and poops. Don't shrink your nose, all you single-types out there. Your time will come too. Every morning, the entire household gathers around G as he does his morning air-kickboxing routine which goes something like this --


Thud, thud, thud. 
Break. 
Suck fingers.
Watch the people around. 
Why is everyone staring at me?
Frowny face. 
Okay, not sure I really care if everyone is staring or not. 
Stop sucking fingers and give everyone a big smile.
Thud, thud, thud. 
[And repeat above.]


Meanwhile, all of us whisper around the little guy speculating on when said poop might happen. Why are we so depraved, you ask? We were not always like this. But after a couple of episodes of upset stomach (G's that is, not ours), we quickly realized that if G's tummy is not happy, we're all pretty much on emergency duty the rest of the day. And not all the people/games in the world will make him happy. Not even Eeyore, the donkey, whom he likes very much otherwise.

When the happy event happens, a whoop of joy like no other will be heard from our house. S will look all daddy-proud. And I will promptly go eat some high calorie sweetish stuff to celebrate the occasion.


PS: baby and I doing very well. 3-months old and growing so rapidly that it scares me. There's no pace he can set that will be slow enough for me. I am already missing the days when he was such a teeny-tiny thing in my arms!

Travelogues - Verona, Italy

Yup, this is the same Verona as in Shakespeare's "Two gentlemen from Verona". It was a hot, sweltering day in Verona.  The sun was beating down on our heads as we toured through the city. One thing we really missed in Europe were water fountains. Bottled water is forbiddingly expensive - one small 0.5 L bottle costs around 5 euros. The guide warned us that locals might just pump tap water into the bottles and sell them (deja vu India!).  S & I decided to take a risk and drank water right out of a fountain in the middle of a piazza. S went a step farther and dunked his head in the fountain to escape the 105 F heat. Yup, Italy in the summer == Madurai/Trichy during agni natchathiram.

©Subhashini Srinivasan
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Ancient roman ruins excavated beneath the present day Verona. It is amazing how much the ground level has increased over the centuries.

©Subhashini Srinivasan

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Shakespeare's most famous heroine Juliet's hometown is Verona. The house where Juliet's supposed to have lived is in a nondescript, winding alleyway. Pictured right, her statue in the fictional home. You will be lucky in love if you place your hand over her heart and think of your loved one or some such thing. I couldn't bring myself to subscribe to this belief because look what happened to Juliet herself, eh?

©Subhashini Srinivasan

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Everyone's a sucker for love. Wall graffiti at the entrance to Juliet's house. Legend has it that if you write your name along with your lover's on this wall, your love will be successful. We found lots of couples waiting in line to scribble on this wall...

©Subhashini Srinivasan

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Juliet's window (right) from where she romanced Romeo...

©Subhashini Srinivasan

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Arena di Verona, another giant coliseum, originally built in AD 30. 

©Subhashini Srinivasan

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They were gearing up for an Operatic concert when we visited there. The arena was impressive in its size and conception. 

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I was walking past this statue toward the Coliseum when it suddenly lunged at me. Turns out it is a living guy after all..:) How he managed to be wrapped in this gold dress in the burning hot sun is beyond me...

©Subhashini Srinivasan

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A modern world gladiator taking a smoke break..:)

Travel Diaries: Lugano, Italy

Some years back, S & I took a vacation to Europe. We visited London, Paris, Switzerland and Italy. It was one of the most wonderful, educative trips we had ever taken. I am not sure why I didn't blog about this back then. But I did maintain copious travel notes and TONS of photographs. Here are a few memories from that trip...

The highlight of the trip was Italy. Both S & I had such an amazing time there. So I'll start from there.

Lugano is a quaint little town on the Swiss-Italian border. It is one of those towns right out of an Enid Blyton book - laid back, sleepy and very comfy like a favorite old armchair. 

©Subhashini Srinivasan. All rights reserved

 We stopped at Lugano for a coffee break en route to Italy. After tasting insipid, watery coffee in the rest of Europe, it came as a delight to my taste buds. In fact, when we got into Italy, S & I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Here, we could get food that satisfied the salt & spice cravings of the vegetarian South Indian. The cappuccino , pictured right, at a non-descript restaurant was one of the most delicious I'd tasted! Yummm.

©Subhashini Srinivasan. All rights reserved

Lake Lugano, pictured right. We took a stroll along the promenade next to the lake. It was a beautiful, summer morning with the crispiness of the previous night's dew. The mountain sides by the lake were full of colorful houses. 

©Subhashini Srinivasan. All rights reserved

We found two old, retired men playing chess on this chessboard right by the lakeside. One of them said that they had been doing this regularly for the past 10 years every single day. What a beautiful, relaxed way to spend one's old age - with a cup of coffee, an old friend and a well played game of chess by the lake!

©Subhashini Srinivasan. All rights reserved

Many of you might be familiar with the legend of William Tell. It was one of the earliest stories my mom told me. I was pleasantly surprised to see his statue in Lugano!


















PS: I finally have added copyright info to this blog and the photos. I never thought my writing/photographs were worthy enough of copying. But after an idiot copied my blog posts last year, I've been forced to add copyright information. 

An Indian Summer

When I am not being a super-genius, all-cool software programmer (that's my day job), I like to pretend I am an interior designer. I have a liking for and appreciate aesthetically designed spaces but that's where my talent ends. Sure, I can put together a decent looking living room that people won't be revolted by. But I don't think I can come anywhere close to designing a chic, super-hot room that people will be awed by (like the ones they show on HGTV). Nonetheless, we all want to be something we can't be. Soooo, in my free time, I don the interior designer avatar and go hunting for home decor stuff.

I looove all the colorful little, cutesy knick-knacks that you can pepper the house with -- keepsake boxes, letter holders, scrapbook caddies etc.. Much to S's bewilderment, my latest fad is cute baskets. Honestly, not sure many girls can resist handwoven baskets with colorful linen covers inside and adorable wordings! So, every time I make a trip to Kroger or Babies R Us, S peers worriedly into the shopping bags wondering what sort of junk I've accumulated this time. And sometimes, he convinces me to return stuff.

Anyhoo, this morning, I was doing some blog hopping and landed up at The Indian Summer. Unlike me, she's a real, real interior designer sort. I was blown away by her blog and the spaces she showcases. So, if you're in the mood to shop or decorate your home, hop away to The Indian Summer and feast your eyes.

Should American Women Learn to Give Birth at Home? - TIME

I am a big believer in natural pregnancy and childbirth. Having gone through one pregnancy here in the US, I think I can safely comment that the birthing process is "overmedicalized" like the article quotes. There are innumerable tests, screenings and procedures to be undergone whether they are necessary or not. To make things interesting, doctors here never offer concrete advice regarding a lot of these screenings/tests. They only have "options" and then they leave it "upto to you", the patient, to decide. Doctors here seem more terrified of insurance companies and libel suits than they are concerned about the patient's health.

With that mistrust firmly in place, I decided to avoid a C-section at all costs. I went the natural route and even took a "natural childbirth" class. Our instructor was excellent but the class turned out to be pretty boring after a while. There's only so much anyone can tell you when you've already read a dozen books on the subject. One of the things that the class often talked about was home births. I had no plans of home birthing initially but midway through the pregnancy, I started having second thoughts. I bounced the idea around among family members just to get some perspective.

I thought the previous generation - my mom, mother-in-law (MIL hereafter) - would be supportive of home births largely because Indian parents are pro-natural. I was in for a surprise. My MIL, who had witnessed a few home births, was vehemently opposed. I explained to her how medicalized the process had become here in the US. But she had witnessed unforeseen complications and even loss of life in the home birthing environment because of lack of medical advancements. She was firmly in the hospital birthing camp. Ditto for my mom who thought that while we hear a lot of positive stories about home birthing, there are women who never live to tell the tale.

I have to admit that my fear of doctors and hospitals here in the US was not fully justified. The care that I received during labor/delivery was excellent. Doctors and nurses were very co-operative and supportive of my unmedicated birth. They did not once mention epidural (even though 95% of women here receive epidural routinely) until I asked for it myself. And all through 31 hours of labor, the nurses were so compassionate and helpful that I feel grateful to them. And my midwife didn't once mention C-section since I was doing well.

Sooo, I have revised my black-and-white impression of epidural, medical interventions and hospital births in the US. I still feel like epidural/pain medications are vastly overused. But there's a place for them (in cases like mine) as well. One of our friends, who was aghast when I said I was going epidural-free, asked me if I wished I'd taken epidural early on in labor. I stand by my decision and I don't regret it. If I had to do it all over again, I'd do it the same way. But next time around, I might give home birth more serious thought..:)

Being a stay-at-home-mom

It has been two months plus a few days since I went on maternity leave. The first few days I was on leave - before G was born - I drove S and my mom crazy with my restless energy. I insisted on driving myself and ran a few errands during the day despite protestations from both. A couple of days before G was born, I took a detour to a bookstore unannounced and got an earful from S about being careful, responsible, blah-di-blah. 4 days into my maternity leave, just when S and my mother were despairing about what to do with me, G decided to make an appearance. That put an end to their high BP.

Being a stay-at-home-mom has been interesting. The first month or so, despite being fully occupied with G, I had this need to get out of the house and go somewhere at least once a day. I felt cooped up not being able to step out and do stuff. But I think I've grown into it. I have slowed down. A lot. Which is quite something because I've always been a very restless type. I am enjoying -

- not being tied to a cubicle all day long
- being able to get out and savor the sun, the rain and the wind at will. I am writing this post sitting outside in our patio, basking in the early morning sun. I could get used to this.
- being able to devote time to reading and introspection.
- hot, home-cooked meals for lunch. I can't tell you how much I hate eating out of lunch boxes which is exactly what I've been doing all these years. Ugh. Takes the joy out of life.
- spending time with my parents and my baby.
- watching a LOT of TV. Granted this is not exactly nourishing, it feels good to watch TV whenever without having to worry about work, grocery lists, cooking and cleaning..
- not having to schedule everything around weekends. Maybe this should make the top of the list. I feel liberated being able to go to the park, watch a late-night movie, stay up late reading or call friends during the week without worrying about work the next day. It feels G.R.E.A.T!

I miss the intellectual stimulation of problem-solving at work. But I've found enough household problems to keep me occupied. Such as the ant-infestation which we can't seem to get rid of. Or finding the best cleaner for the bathrooms and the wooden floors. Or figuring out how to make S's undershirts sparkling white like they show in the Rin ads back home. Or managing the grocery inventory.

Right. So far so good. S is predicting I'll be tearing my hair out in the next few months and will be itching to go back to work. We'll see about that. For now, I am going to get back to drinking my filter coffee as I laze around in the beautiful Fall sun until G wakes up. Ciao.

Memories of school days

Fall term for Fayette County schools commences tomorrow. I was at Target yesterday and found the aisles full of clamoring, excited kids picking out their school supplies. Harried-looking parents were trying to hunt for the best deals while also satisfying their children's demands.

"Mom, I want that lunch box", said a pouting little boy.

"You already have two lunch boxes, honey"

"None of them have Spiderman though and Carey has a box with Spiderman on it!"

Back in my school days, my brother and I had the ever-faithful, stainless steel tiffin carriers for lunch as did most of my friends. Tiffin carriers were the best suited to satisfy the Indian propensity for having a full fledged meal at noon - sambhar rice, curd rice and a sabzi. Only a select few who always had sandwiches for lunch got the fancy, plastic tiffin boxes. And most of us didn't feel that competing for fancy tiffin boxes was worth the sacrifice of curd rice..:)

No, my consumerist tendencies were directed toward pencil cases. There was the ordinary, plastic pencil box. Then there were the cool ones with dividers for erasers and sharpeners. After that came the really fancy double deckered ones - a top container for pencils and stuff you wanted everyone to see and a secret bottom compartment to house one's really treasured possessions. The really, really cool ones -- the ones all of us wanted -- were the beautiful Disney themed, double-deckered pencil cases with a padded, cushioned cover and a magnetic lock. I was in fifth grade when someone got this to school for the first time. It had the rest of us salivating and pretty soon, the class filled up with these. 

This model had all sorts of secret compartments springing up out of nowhere. There were compartments that would pop out on the side for erasers etc..And of course, the so-called secret bottom compartment to house the most vaunted possessions. In my class, there was an unspoken rule that while everyone's pencil cases was shared property, you couldn't touch the bottom compartment without asking permission first. Fights broke out when people opened up this area without askance. Most of us kept our lucky fountain pens in there. 

Fountain pens are almost extinct now. But back then, I went through so many pens to find the pen - the One Pen that would flow beautifully, producing exquisite calligraphy in the hands of the right owner and fetch the most marks from teachers. We would scratch the tip of the nib on the floor to make it smooth and produce thicker writing. Of course, we damaged a lot of beautiful pens in this process. Only a few would escape the damage and actually manage to survive. When someone got a Hero pen -- the pinnacle of all pens, all their friends would take turns at writing with it. 


Then came our obsessions with glossy notebook covers. When I had gotten to the 9th or 10th grade, the soft-cover, glossy front & backed notebooks with pictures of celebrities were the rage. Guys mostly stuck with Sachin Tendulkar and other cricketing greats. Girls had a wider variety to pick from -- Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan, Hum Aap ke Hain Koun themed covers, DDLJ-themed covers, cricket hunks and what not. The first day of school, everyone would compare their notebooks and go "awww.." over the most novel, beautiful notebooks. 


Looking back at those days, it seems whimsical. But it also feels endearingly innocent, a reminder of days when our fancies and thoughts were occupied with silly, simple things. We didn't aspire to anything great like being dropped by a fancy car or having one's own, separate study room -- things I am told kids boast about these days. Give us a cool pencil case and a notebook with Anil Kumble on it and most of us would've been in Ninth Heaven. 

Pink, blue, flowers & animals..

S and I have been trying to stay away from the stereotypical pink vs. blue thing for our boy. The pink vs. blue mania extends not just to clothes but all the way to crib sheets, blankets, bouncers, sippy cups and what-not. And it is very hard to not get sucked into this stereotype. Last week, we went with my sister-in-law to buy a bouncer for little G. The only bouncer that was comfortable and met all our requirements was a beige-brown color with a couple of pink flowers.

"Are you sure you want to buy this? It has some pink in it", said my SIL.

I shrugged, "This is the only one that looks comfy and it doesn't have any other colors".

"But your kid might curse you later when he sees the photos with the pink flowered bouncer."

S started looking a bit doubtful as he imagined his son cursing him in later life. He looked at an appropriately blue bouncer which wasn't as comfortable as this one. After about 10 minutes of much convincing and wrangling, we settled on the beige one. After we got back home, we ruminated on how easily we could've bought something that was not comfortable just because of the "right" color!

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In the US, boy babies have a very limited selection of clothes - striped or plain shirts/onesies with either an animal on it or wordings like "Silly monkey" or  "Wild thing".  The colors are nothing to talk about - dull brown, yellow, blue (of course), green (if particularly lucky). While all the girl infants of this world are carted around in cute, frilly frocks with polka dots & flowers in bright colors, my boy goes around wearing a shirt that says "Cat's meow". I honestly don't know what "Cat's meow" means. I think the makers ran out of cute things to say for boys and made something up. Hopefully, G won't have to wear shirts with "Dog's bark" or "Cow's moo". If boys' stuff doesn't have animals on it, it will have cars. I guess someone decided that the male gender can't have anything to do with the finer things of life like flowers or artsy stuff.

S accurately ( but politically incorrectly) points out that G isn't exactly going to care about all this anyway. According to him, this is just the feminine craving in me to buy cute things. Hmph. I don't know about that but it definitely makes S's life easier as far as shopping goes.