Oh Christmas tree

A few days ago we put up our Christmas Tree. It was such a small thing but it brought me so much joy. I was quite sure the Brat and Bean would pull the entire shebang down. But they didn’t. The Brat spent a good hour switching ornaments at the bottom of the tree. Putting a bell up, putting up a star, taking the bell down and moving it two branches to the right, reconsidering the star and shifting it lower…. you get the picture. The Bean thoughtfully chewed on a string of beads and might have ingested some paint. The OA and I worked on the upper branches and fixed it all up.

As we came near the end the OA was about to put the angel on the top and was surprised when I shrieked. Nooo!!! It’s family tradition. One of the kids gets to put up the angel and as children my brother and I fought over it. It was considered a great honour and the one who didn’t get to put it up would sulk (okay I think I sulked. …. he survived mostly without sulking!).

The OA picked up the Brat and there was much more screaming and shouting as he reached for the top, tried to hook the angel on and finally dropped it. Another dangerous attempt saw the entire tree in a very precarious position with the Brat clinging  tenaciously to the top most branch and threatening to bring it down. Finally he managed and was as pleased as punch. We clapped for him and made a big fuss and as he was put down I wistfully wondered how many more traditions I would be able to follow. And I felt a little sad that I was the only one who knew that tradition. The OA didn’t.

While the OA is always up for anything and we leave no stone unturned while celebrating the other’s festivals in terms of money and effort, I don’t think he will ever feel as deeply about the festival as I do. And that is only natural. I could never feel the way he does about his festivals because they don’t bring back memories for me the way they do for him. Sure I enjoy firecrackers, am thrilled to do up the house, dress the kids up in new outfits, buy sweets and organise a fancy dinner… but it’s not the same for him too I am sure. Being the kind of person he is (he says its a male thing) he has no recollection of little family traditions and details so I do the best I can to recreate a family atmosphere with absolutely no help from him.

I on the other hand remember every carol, every tradition and every little thing we ever did at home. Over the last 4 years we’ve celebrated X’mas in places other than our home for a number of reasons. This is the first year we’re home and it’s so perfect and complete - the four of us together.

But something is missing. There is no Christmas in the air. The gifts are under a beautiful tree, the cake is here, the decorations up and carols playing on the music system. But I guess it will always be just a little different. Because this is not a Christian home. It belongs to the two of us and it bears its own character. I do wish the kids could experience Christmas in my parents’ home  - sitting in front of a roaring fire, the guitar being passed around, gorging on cake and wine, the rustle of silk sarees and warm pashmina shawls as we get ready for the midnight service at church, the unholy excitement to come home and open up gifts… everything.

I asked the OA if he missed festivals at his own home…. he absently dismisses the idea and says that this is a different city, different people and different time. How can it be possible to recreate the exact same atmosphere. He also pointed out that the fact that the city is celebrating around us, makes a huge difference. You can’t miss Diwali with the brilliant fire crackers going off every few seconds. You can’t not feel that Holi is here when you open the windows to coloured faces and merriment. You can’t not feel like Durga Puja is here if you go down the road to the various pandals. But Christmas…. it’s easily missed. I want to go to other homes where they’re having cake and sitting around a tree. I want to see familiar homes with the Star of David lit up outside. I want carol singers to stop by and sing at our home. Thanks to my Indian name, most acquaintances and neighbours don’t even know I am a Christian and people don’t even call up to wish us … There are barely any phone calls from the OA’s side to wish us either.

The Brat has begun to understand and since I am not a church goer, we have not had carol singers drop by to this home. I don’t know which church in Delhi to go to for a musical service. I don’t know where to take him to see Santa Claus. 

I think Christmas always brings a blue funk with it. I tend to stop and take a look back over the year gone by. Wonder what I could have done to make it a better year for me as well as those around me. A little introspection. A little wistfulness as another year rolls by and time runs out… I think what set it off this time was the realisation that the OA didn’t know of the angel tradition. And how the hell was he supposed to know it anyway?! Sure, he went along with it, but it’s such a silly childish thing… What is so great about putting the angel on top of the tree. And yet, here I am, pushing 30, still thrilled by such a small thing.

This year gave me my beautiful, stubborn little Bean. It completed my family and made a dream come true. It made me a little closer to the OA’s family. It brought us a new family member - my sister in law. It changed the equation and my free spirit bachelor boy brother has settled into married life beautifully.

And with this year I’ve realised that I have to stop trying to recreate what I grew up with. That my children are not growing up in my parents’ home - they are growing up in a home that is mine and the OA’s. And no matter how hard I try, an ambience and atmosphere are not things you can capture and bring to your own home. That they are growing up here and they will love whatever it is that the OA and I give them. They aren’t going to feel the twinge I feel when carols are played. They may not think it’s an honour to place the angel on top of the tree. And that it doesn’t really matter. This is what I signed up for. And after a little introspection I know I wouldn’t change it for anything…Again - I guess we’re going to make our own traditions and enjoy the best of both worlds…. Or is that what we say to make ourselves feel better?

 And oh - the OA asked me what the significance of a Christmas Tree is. Why do we decorate a tree. I stopped and was quite shocked at my own ignorance. I had no idea!!! So I asked my parents and this is the story - They tell me that St Boniface a missionary used it’s triangular shape to explain the trinity of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. But it was brought indoors by Martin Luther for who decorated it with candles to look like stars in the sky, to show his children.

This is what wikipedia says about it.

 

Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

 

Money changes everything

Someone left a comment on the post on mummy’s cooking saying that from my posts we come across as ‘not an average home’  and that I cater to the elite! I couldn’t help but laugh when I read it. We’re perhaps the least well off among our friends. Partly because we got married 2 months before the OA even had a job. And had our kids in quick succession. So while others are investing in property and the stock markets we chose to invest in our family… Cheesy line I know, but that’s how it is.

My shopping is done in the cheaper markets around Delhi, I don’t flash labels and we don’t take foreign holidays or trips. We rarely eat out and most things are home made  - from ghee to chocolate cakes, despite my dislike of cooking. Simply because a well run home I must have, however hard it requires me to work… But we live comfortably and within our means, our children well fed and well dressed, our table with enough food to welcome an unexpected guest and a lot of hard work to keep our home looking neat and warm. It’s just a matter of time I suppose, with me going back to full time work in a couple of years and the loans being paid off. It doesn’t help that others got beds and cupboards as wedding gifts whereas we just about managed to buy a mattress on my meagre salary!!!

Stereotypes are of so many kinds and I think we deal with them on a daily basis. But I guess it made me realise how differently people view you depending on where they think you stand financially.

I recently met someone I studied with years ago. Now I was easily one of the more ridiculed girls in school. My skirts faded and let down for years in a row, my white shirt almost yellow despite much effort. But my shoes shone and my clothes were neatly ironed. My brother and I had cheap plastic pencil boxes instead of the fancy magnetic ones that were the fashion. And while everyone else carried Eagle water bottles with cold water, we still carried ugly plastic ones. With theft and a fire where we lost all we owned and a business just getting started, I know we couldn’t afford more. But our education was the best that money could buy in that small town.

I was looked down on for being of mixed parentage in a small orthodox town in UP. For not being as rich as the other girls. And for the unforgivable - speaking better English and knowing more History and Geography than anyone else. And singing better too, knowing all the hymns taught in our convent school and being asked to come up and teach some new ones. And this girl, in her rich blue sweaters, stark white shirt and thick shiny oiled back hair didn’t really like me. It’s not anything she said. It’s in that unspoken, non-verbal way kids have of being cruel and leaving the weird kids out.

It didn’t matter. Business fared better, we were steady on our feet. And I moved to a new school for the last two years. With no history or baggage. In a smart new uniform, with my brother for company on our new red bike that we sped around the city on. I came into my own, began to participate a lot more in events, became Head Girl and finally left behind my girlhood years with some pleasant memories of school.

Now unfortunately that girl is in a position where she has to look up to me… circumstances are such, she is employed by someone I know. I am still polite. But I cannot find it in my heart to be warm to her. Apparently she is now all concern and warmth about me, because suddenly I am apparently better off. Suddenly I am worthy of her time and interest. Money makes such a difference doesn’t it?

Her family which was doing very well at that time has come upon harder days or maybe I just remember their home through rose tinted glasses, as a richer one than ours. It was a harsh blow to be rejected because I grew up playing with all the neighbourhood kids, rich and poor alike. From the naval officer’s kids to the vegetable vendors kids, I played with every child I could. But I hated school for the rich b***h exclusion tactics.

I still remember the days I stood alone at a bus stop, waiting for the bus to come, shunned by the others, looking down at my socks losing their elasticity and defiantly twirling my water bottle. The brighter blues and the whiter whites standing away and whispering about the girl whose Hindi too wasn’t very good. I swore then that my kids would learn to speak Hindi fluently. And the Brat does me proud.

Mum often tells me I shouldn’t be unforgiving. I am not. I am just unforgetting.

 

You know you are old …

..when you log on to google talk and your friends’ statuses read thus

- is available till baby calls

 - keeps disappearing to attend to baby

- had a baby girl on the 9th!

- wants a quick cure for colic

- he’s crawling!

- “the latest funny one liner her daughter has said”

- 38 weeks down - Oh Lord send me into labour now!

And then you go through your phone inbox and this is a sample of the messages you have saved. (Oh Lord how old are we?! Do we have nothing to talk of but babies..?? Lord replies - Err.. take a look at your own blog MM! MM sheepishly melts away)

- X and Y are proud to announce the birth of their baby boy on…

- Yippee! She’s out. At 9 am. And we’re calling her XYZ.

- Little baby O is thrilled to announce that she became a didi at 8.05 am. Mummy is exhausted, papa is passing around the cigars.

- Our bundle of joy J arrived at 12.00 am and weighs in at a solid 10 pounds. Come on people, you know we like to do things in style!

This was inspired by this post. I do so enjoy her blog! Now why don’t you guys entertain me with anything funny you have in your phone inbox. Go ahead…hit me with your best.

On second thoughts here are some funny ones in my inbox that have nothing to do with parents

- Saw the ex. Fortunately was wearing makeup and something strappy. Hah!

-  I am so plastered. No more drinking after a break up. On second thoughts - what else can I do after a break up

- It is essential that I turn up to save face. Saving face is important. Do you understand?

- I am soooo turning into my mother. I shifted the couch for the maid to sweep. Suicide is the only honourable way out now.

- It’s not important. What is important is that you realise what is important. Okay?

- Is this your idea of sympathy? Remind me not to call you the next time I eff up.

-She is such a cow. Everytime she opens her mouth I can hear her moo. I need a new job, MM. Anything. Can I wash your babies’ nappies?

- I have just the man for you. His number is (the OA’s number). Pay him in the morning. Give him my ref. His rates are competitive.

- WTF? Now I must take attitude from his dog???

-Yuck. Their kid puked. On my carpet. Why is that so bad when I am used to drunken adults puking?!!

- You won’t believe who walked in. This is so making it to tomorrow’s page 3. Can I call or are you busy feeding one of your many babies?

And here are some of the gtalk statuses.

- Available but expensive

- If everyone is available, where is the thrill?

- ‘Tis the season to be broke.

- Do not disturb. Chaddis in a twist.

- Eat, drink and be slurry.

 

Finally making it to the papers

This morning’s HT carries an article about couples at the IIMs living in. I read it. Then re-read it.. then waited to see what was new. And finally gave up. Tell me  - is there anyone who thought this was news? Couples live in all the time in college. The IIMs get most of the publicity… but the women are in and out at IITs too, the last time I went and also the medical colleges.

But what I’d really urge you to do is read yesterday’s HT cover… a full page by Editor Rahul Sharma on why he loves Delhi. A man after my own heart I must say! Actually I think you need to log in to read it so I am going to paste it here - also so that I can save it for myself.

United Colours of Diversity                                  

I love Delhi. I love it for its warmth. I love it for its spring, its ostentation. Its wealth, its power and its idiosyncrasies. I love it for the melting pot of culture, communities and languages that it is. I love it for its size and its ability to accommodate so many of us. Despite its faults I have loved it since I, like many of you, decided to make it my home many years ago.

Back then, Delhi had its wide, open roads; children still flew kites in Malviya Nagar; Mayur Vihar was just beginning to get populated: Gurgaon was a village, and Noida would largely remain one for many more years. There was a badly lit park in the middle of Connaught Place; Palika Bazar was not as crummy an underground market as it is today: and the laid-back coffee house in the Super Bazar building offered decent dosas and dark, quiet corners to the amorous kind. History was all around us whether the Red Fort, the Qutub Minal: or those old Harley Davidsons that ferried you to Chandni Chowk.

Much has changed. Delhi is bigger, higher, wider and more crowded. Roads have shrunk under the mass of humanity and the vehicles that crawl over them. It has become a centre of learning; a cultural hub that seemed improbable not too long ago.

Post-independence refugee colonies where families lived in barracks-like structures have turned hip and expensive. There are sprawling, glitzy shopping malls around us. The greenery in the city has largely remained untouched even though the coming of a shiny Metro and the high capacity bus service has felled many trees. Lodhi Garden is still a favourite, but South Extension and Greater Kailash have lost their lustre. Raja Garden is the new haunt.

  

More importantly Delhi is a much younger city today It has become India’s most fashionable and fashion-conscious town. It has shed its ‘khet- kisan’ garb and has become sophisticated and accommodating. The overgrown village of the past has become a megalopolis of flashy cars and flashier people. Folks in Delhi have never been ashamed to ask about the car you drive, where you live and how much money you make. That’s a starting point of most conversations. And there’s nothing embarrassing about asking such questions for those who know that enjoying life is nothing to be embarrassed about.

 

The historian Percival Spear who spent many decades studying India and taught at St Stephen’s College for many years, called New Delhi ‘ the stop-go capital”. A 1989 article in the New York Times stated that Spear meant that the “city had an unusually uneven and protean history changing its face, its ethnic composition, its religious character and its role as a sub-continental metropolis from century to century or decade to decade. Indeed, the capital of India has changed in the last decade, more than in the previous 10 years. Its face, composition and boundaries have changed again. But its heart has not.

Despite the big malls, most people would still want to shop in Karol Bagh. Most also feel that the best deals are available in Sarojini Nagar not Lajpat Nagar or Janpath. They love its greenery and despite all those cars, most Delhiites still travel by pesky buses that kill far too many people every year. Starting today Hindustan Times will celebrate that very change.

Over the next several days, we’ll bring you the best of Delhi, everything that makes you love this place. We will write about people who have made a difference to the city We will celebrate the Spirit of Delhi, its diversity. We will celebrate the food of Delhi, its music, its poetry its history its youth, its inhibitions, traditions, its banality and its future. We will celebrate you our readers. Come join us as we lay Delhi’s golden heart bare. Share with us your experience of living in Delhi. What makes it special? What makes it fun? What makes it tick? Look for all the good things around you. We’ll be waiting to hear from you about your love affair with a city that means so much to us, so much to you, about your love for the city that is ours. 

 

Hello world….

Well hello everyone. I’ve jumped ship again. I think I’m here to stay. Sorry to give you all the runaround but I’ve really been having a tough time settling in. I believe you couldn’t comment on the last few posts at themadmomma.com. Apparently I ran out of bandwidth. Well since this isn’t my day job and I really haven’t the time to be applying for more etc, I am back to a good old blogging platform. A few things I have to say

- My old blog is shut to public mostly because I refuse to have any more anonymous comments that I cannot trace back. I miss you blogspot but you were unkind and a little senseless! Refusing to accept ids other than blogger is not really fair in a free world. Sniff sniff…

- I will be posting fewer pictures because apparently here you have a limit and I am certainly not paying to upload them! And oh - I dropped my camera and broke it so its held together with cellotape and doesn’t work very well anymore. Are you listening Santa, (also known as the OA)?!

- Old posts. Well I tried to import them but they left their comments behind. Which was not fun. So here I am - starting afresh with a brand new name since I even lost my dear url to wordpress. But the moniker stays. We’re still the Mad Momma, her sane husband the OA and the two little monkeys, the Brat and the Bean.

- The Bean is trying to self wean which is excruciatingly painful for me and with the work and the Brat and the house, I really don’t need more trouble on my plate. Not only does she refuse to nurse, she also refuses the bottle. She’s been screaming her head off for the last one week, through the night and the OA and I are like zombies, so sleep deprived are we. So I write this post and head to the pediatrician with her.

- The Brat has converted me into a jack of all trades. Over the last few days he has yanked a switchboard out of a wall and I tried repairing it yesterday. It blew up in my face. Smoke and sparks. The fuse for our house blew. It took me an hour to repair it all. Now I will be handcuffing the Brat to the bed. Terrible twos… why do you have it in for me?

- Finally, it has come to the management’s notice that some loony is going around spreading hatred in my name and signing off as the Mad Momma. In the last two years that I have blogged, I can swear I have never left a rude comment on another blog. I restrain myself to being brusque on my own blog. So apologies all around if you have a comment supposedly left by me. I would be obliged if you would mail me at themadmomma@gmail.com in case you have been blessed with one of those comments. Do give me a chance to clear my name. And those of you who know me, well just delete the darn things.

It’s a shame that the Christmas spirit is so lacking in some people and as I go around putting up my decorations and the house is filled with good cheer and the aroma of baking, there are little trolls going around spreading ill will.

- Forgive the poor presentation but I am still working on the blog. Like my life it’s a work in progress. If you dont’ hear from me soon it’s only because it’s Christmas, I have my hands full of work and I take off for a week post X’mas. So Season’s Greetings… If not tomorrow, I’ll see you on the other side.

 

The school shootouts arrive…

A few days ago I did this post and among the comments many seemed to think that school life in India is a more innocent time. That raising children in India was safer and more rosy. I was the sole dissenting voice reminding them that violence and sex is on the rise. And here we have a teenager shot by his classmates, in school.What is the world coming to when children shoot each other over a basketball match? And what kind of stupid parent leaves a gun lying around in a TV cabinet? And why should the killers go to juvenile court? There’s a family that lost their child to violence. It doesn’t matter to them whether the killer was 14 or 18. He did as much damage as any adult could have done.

Sex or violence school life in the metros is the same as it is in schools abroad. Don’t fool yourself  - the hierarchy does exist here too. The geeks, the dorks, the jocks and the a-listers. And our kids are going to have to deal with this pressure - we can either open our eyes to the dangers or bury our heads like ostrich and look back with rose tinted spectacles.

Today’s paper also carried an article that says  a poll says that people feel India will be a super power in the next 13 years. While I don’t see a causation.. I do see something of a correlation… the shootouts in schools have arrived. I guess we’ll be a super power soon.

 

Why do we have kids?

Over the last month or two the Brat has become unmanageable. Terrible two tantrums, violence, coupled with sibling rivalry. There are days when I get absolutely exhausted between the babies and my job and by the end of the day when I fall into bed I think of all the people I know who don’t have kids and want to make voodoo dolls and poke them with pins. Just for kicks you know. Because they are not suffering like I am.

And  then a few days ago my brother got an award at work. A big award. My sister in law was at the ceremony and rushed out immediately and called my parents, her voice breaking with pride and happiness…. and then my parents called me. My eyes welled up with tears and I was so choked. He’s one of those kids who was quiet and unassuming during our school years. I was the school head girl, prefect, actively participating in everything that happened. The only thing he did was play the guitar. I’d often show off at home - ‘Look Ma, I’m prefect. Lets see if he makes it next year. Look Ma, I’m head girl, let’s see if he gets any post next year. ‘  He didn’t. And he didn’t care either.

I went on to a well known college while he went down south to a college that was again, quiet and unassuming. And then he came into his own. Once he got his job he began to flourish. I guess it was simply that he was finally doing what he wanted to and not something that he just had to. He’s been getting awards and being felicitated and doing well for himself, touchwood. And I am the proud sister.

I don’t know when the sibling rivalry faded and when I became this fond mother figure cheering from the sidelines. I don’t know what he is going to do with three cranky women, wife, mother and sister all talking to each other, thinking he is only next to God and crying tears of joy.

And after I hung up, I realised this is why we have kids. For this one brief moment of pride and joy. There  I was, feeling so overjoyed…. being just his sister. I cannot even begin to imagine what my parents must have felt in that moment. The intense pleasure of feeling pride in another’s achievements. Untouched by even a tinge of envy…

The moment the ceremony was over he came out and called me and of course got a yell from me for telling me last… !

It’s not a Nobel  prize. It’s a simple award recognising his hard work and his achievements. And I am proud and honoured to be his sister. And I hope someday I will know what it is like to be the mother of an award winner… .

Already dreaming big for the babies… should nip it in the bud before I begin to pressurise them….  

 

Keeping expectations low

The OA has made a prophecy. He says we’re going to be thoroughly disappointed by the kids when they grow up. Why?

Because the Brat has the makings of a gangster.

And the Bean will look funny - like the Olsen twins.

Maybe this is a good time to give them up for adoption. Any takers?! 

 

Chased by a tag

This is one tag that Dipali, Sue and Desi Girl have all given me so here goes…

10 things I hope to achieve in the next decade since 30 is only 9 months away.

1. Get my waist back
2. Buy my own car
3. Buy my own house (actually I don’t really care for this one. I only want a house if it’s nice and big and airy and within Delhi and that isn’t happening unless the real estate bubble bursts soon)
4.  Go white water rafting
5. Get a tattoo
6. Grow my nails and my hair or then be thin enough to have one of those chic pixie cuts that show off the cheekbones
7. Complete my collection of a saree from every state
8. Figure out what I really want of life…
9. Did I mention getting my waist back?
10. Oh wait… what about getting my waist back, huh?! (As it is obvious from the list… I have no great ambition. )

10 things I miss right now

1. My old house - the one I rented till I got married.
2. Being able to get up and walk out of the house without anything other than my keys and phone.
3. Long painted nails, stilettoes, my waist, my metabolism!
4. My brother
5. My hair - it used to be waist length and now it’s falling out in clumps. I hate babies!
6. Being able to go to the loo/read a book/ watch a movie without interruption
7. Old friends
8. The thrill of firsts. First kiss, first boyfriend… you get the picture!
9. Pets and plants. I want more
10. Anonymity :p