The Linguistic Crisis

  

The famous Marathi author P.L. Deshpande once said that if an average Mumbaikar is scared of anything then it is the Hindi language. Why so?, you may ask. It is because most of us have been raised speaking our mother tongues at home all through childhood and mostly English at school. 

Although I was brought up in Mumbai - the capital of Bollywood Hindi movies, my own adventures with Hindi only  began when I ventured out of school and joined Junior College (11th Standard). The Hindi in Mumbai is a dialect of its own. The typical Mumbaiyya version has a lot influence of one's mother-tongue, interspersed with words from other languages and a heavy accent. No one really judges you as long as the message gets through. 

When I moved to Pune to study, my class was full of people from different parts of the country. Initially when I would speak Hindi, the North Indians would scrunch up their faces with a curiosity that said, “What Hindi is that?!”. I caught on to this dissent very quickly and it made me switch to English. After that, I became “that hep girl” in class who spoke only English. But soon, I learnt the hi-fi Hindi and felt like I have won.

When I moved back to Mumbai, I flaunted my newly-learnt Hindi with my old friends. Much to my surprise, it was  their turn to scrunch up their faces. Mumbaikars never hide their feedback. They call out aberrations and discuss them in detail until you get it.  “Ay! Teri hindi ko kya hua?? Kya bolrai hai tu”. I put my nose high up in the air and shared my newfound knowledge with them - what they have been talking so far has been the wrong kind of Hindi. Needless to say, I was ridiculed.

So now I switch my Hindi, depending on my audience. When I am not sure, English comes to my rescue. Thankfully, in Bangalore, one can easily survive with English. 

I am amazed when Bangaloreans call me a North Indian. And the North Indians call me a South Indian. I am surely not either of those. Back home, we never call ourselves anything really - North nor South Indians! So, what is really my identity? I think ‘West Indian’ fits best. :-)

Aaruhi

"I am six years old!", said the tiny girl we met at the park. After a moment, she "corrected" herself by saying, "No I am ONE year old!". Her name was Aaruhi. She was adorable with her little pony-tail bobbing up and down as she skipped and jumped around in the park. Neil seemed to get along very well with her - at the park, this was rare.

After that, for about 20 mins Neil and Aaruhi played together. She would call me while climbing on some slides, "Aunty, mujhe pakkal-lo naa!". I asked her who she had come with and she pointed to her father who was reading a newspaper on a bench, absolutely oblivious of what his little girl was up to. I realized I was the only panicky parent in the park who was running beneath the maze of slides to track the pitter-patter of Neil's little feet. If I was allowed to climb up on it, I would have happily done so and followed him around too. 

As I was helping Neil climb one of the slides, we suddenly saw our little new friend strutting hurriedly towards her Dad's scooter with him. Within seconds, she sat on it and zoomed away - without as much a goodbye glance at us. 

When Neil realized she was going home, big fat tears started rolling down his face. He kept asking me to bring her back. I felt very helpless. I did my best to console him, but nothing seemed to help. 

Being with his grandparents that weekend seemed to help Neil get over his sadness. But the next weekend, he asked me about 'Aaruhi-didi' again. We went to the park, but she wasn't there. He was sad, but seemed to be better this time.

My little boy is a big, throbbing, walking-talking heart. With some people he gets along very well and seems to make long-lasting relationships. In the real world, I will struggle to explain to him how things work -

We live in a very dynamic world today. People come and go. They move schools, cities, countries, continents all the time.

With some people, you will make long-lasting, meaningful friendships. But sometimes you have to let them go. It is hard, but that's how it is. Some may not realize the impact they've had on you and may simply walk off. You need to let them go, happily. But when you are the one to leave, don't leave things unsaid. Say your good-byes graciously, sometimes with tears and warm hugs.

With some people, when u meet them again, nothing seems to have changed and you can pick up where you left off. With others, they are in a different time and world, changed completely due to experiences in life. All you can do is, live in the moment and hold on to the memories, experiences and the good times you share.. :)

Sugar And Spice!

Yes people. I am a mommy now. :D I haven't been posting anything on the blog for a long time coz I didn't find the words to express myself for the last one year. Today, I kinda do. Please expect more baby-posts on my blog from now on :D. I promise to keep it interesting for everyone.

Nine months of exhilaration and complete bliss. My husband, my family, friends and coworkers ensured my happiness was topped up with a lot more. I looooooooved the nine months that went by - most definitely the best months of my life.

No one warned me what the initial two months of motherhood are like. Unfortunately, I have never been around a new born baby and mother either. So I had no clue what it was supposed to be like. Thanks to a lot of close people who supported me through the initial months. All I was told by everyone were six words "Hang in there. It gets better". Best advice ever, coz that's all you can do in that time. 

Amidst the sleepless nights, the incessant, unexplained crying of the baby, nappy changing, wet burp-ups, crazy messy house (yes it still drives me mad),  visits to the doc, baby blues, (plus a LOOOT of other things that I'd refrain from mentioning here) and missing practically everything I was able to do just a few days back! 

Then one very early morning I woke up and got into the grind - starting with a nappy change and same old things I do everyday. I looked at my little boy who was studying my face intently, as usual, batting his long eye-lashes as he did so. He stared at me for hours as I talked to him or went about doing my work.

He whined a little, so I picked him up in my arms, expecting him to cry any moment. Instead, when our eyes locked, he narrowed his big eyes and gurgled softly. After a moment or two, he suddenly broke into this beautiful, inexplicably amazing smile for the first time. Instantly, all the pain and trauma of the first two months disappeared and was forgotten. My baby was puzzled when he saw me smile through blurry, moist eyes. 

It was that moment of enlightenment - when I understood what parenthood is all about. It is about selfless giving - (as said by Elizabeth Stone) - to this little piece of heart who will be forever walking out of your body. It is about what our parents did for us all along - all of their sleepless nights, patience and sacrifices. The greatest part is that they do not even remember the painful parts of parenthood. All they remember are the moments you smiled and were happy...

Of Things That Matter Most...

(Dear readers, it has been ages since I updated my blog. I have had so many thoughts and opinions about so many things that I could not decide what to put up here. Some of the topics I have wanted to post on, have been on matters that may create a bit of melodrama here or some personal stuff too. So, I'd keep away from those. 

Some of my thoughts have revolved around home and my beloved city. In order to not bother everyone with my stories about Mumbai, I plan to start a separate blog. :) For now, here is a tiny post about an unforgettable incident that took place a few years ago...)

Even the smallest gestures in the world can make the most amount of difference. In a world where hatred breeds and petty matters are blown out of proportion, I have been also seeing another part of the world where people find absolute love and affection for each other.
 

Sometimes I actually feel it is sad that humans have words to express themselves in. We misuse them - more often than we think. With increasing virtual connectivity, we forget that it is not a must to put across each of our thoughts onto the online world or mobile phones.

There is a very old man in my husband's native place in Kerala - we call him Achu-eshan. He is very thin but extremely active. He has been with my mother-in-law's family for a very very long time. He took care of her when she was a little girl and used to be a caretaker of the family. Even today he plays the same role in the family very happily. He always has a welcoming toothless smile - no matter who he is greeting.

It was a hot summer's day 2-3 months after my wedding I was at this village for some occasion. It was Holi back home and I was a little sad as it was my first Holi away from my parents in a new, unknown place - where I was not familiar with a lot of things around me - the food, language, culture, festivals, etc. I was missing home a bit and it probably showed.

Achu-eshan speaks only Malaylam and back then I could not understand the tongue at all, so we would not converse with each other. He has probably never met too many people outside Kerala until now, so I was almost a complete stranger to him in every way. He was doing some work when I was trying to keep myself busy by reading a book. But I was not able to concentrate. 

After five minutes I was startled to see him standing next to me. His hand was extended with a little flower in his hand that he had plucked from the garden, as a gesture of compassion and friendship in a place where I was so out of place back then. It was so touching, that I will perhaps never forget it. This old man sensed the turmoil in my mind without exchange of any words between us, and tried in his own tiny way to soothe me and bring a smile to my face. Sometimes, only tiny things matter...

Losing my wisdom...

I have always heard of kids having cavities and visiting dentists. Somehow, I never really had to go to one. Not that I took special care of my teeth all the time. But somehow I never had to go, except for an occasional cleanup. So, I have always heard stories, but never experienced anything bad. I had heard people get to eat ice-cream after a visit to the dentist. It sounded pretty hunky-dory to me. Little did I know why kids hate dentists.

My wisdom teeth sprung up pretty late. I do not know why they are called wisdom teeth. I don't remember suddenly getting wiser or anything. Two years back, my dentist saw nothing where my wisdom teeth were supposed to be. But they suddenly appeared out of nowhere and started bothering me. I tried to ignore the pain for weeks, but woke up one night with an immense pain in my jaw. The next day I decided to go to a dentist who asked me to get an X-Ray. It showed that one of my wisdom teeth in the lower jaw was growing horizontal and was causing the pain. They advised to get it removed.

I held it off for a couple of days. There was a wedding coming up and I didn't want to have a huge inflamed cheek in the pictures. But I could wait no more. One Friday evening, I finally decided to get them removed.

All the dentists in the clinic convinced me to get two of my teeth removed. After a while, I agreed. They came with needles and with no prior warnings injected stuff in my mouth. I winced. Have you seen those little rescued animals on Animal Planet who don't know what's going on when the vets hold them and give them injections and what-not. I felt like one of those animals. 

Then they led me inside a mini OR. I looked at the surgeon who was wearing a tie, his face half-covered with a mask. My hands shivering, I told him with my benumbed jaw that I was "tewiffied". I could see the nurses around giggling.

"Why?! The painful part - the injection - is over! Don't worry..," said the doctor. After some time, he looked at the X-Ray and said, "Ohh...this will take time. It is very deep and seems to be near a nerve. It will be very, very difficult". My eyes widened. He quickly said, "Difficult for us, not for you!!" How is that supposed to make me feel better??

There was a screen that showed visitors in the waiting room. I could see my husband in it. :) Perhaps the only respite I was offered. (Yes, people, this is an awww moment.) 

Through the course of the surgery, I could feel the doc pull and push at something in my jaw and another guy use the vacuum to suck the debris. The doc kept referring to the X-Ray and said again and again, "This is very, very tricky".

I wished they would give me a general anesthesia or at least shut up! Oh, wait, they didn't have to..I saw something the next minute - which I will censor from here. I was surely going to pass out then - no general anesthesia needed! That's when I knew, why I could have never been a doctor. 

The drilling and noises with pointy instruments, I will never forget! Each little thump made me vow that I will always take good care of my teeth and never want to come back again in this chair. I regretted the fact that I came to get the wisdom teeth removed, I could have lived with the pain, perhaps? And there was a wedding around the corner, did I want to look like a little pumpkin! He kept asking me questions every now and then. A peculiar thing about dentists - they ask questions when you have a thousand instruments in your mouth and you cannot talk or even nod.

After the surgery, the doc sat next to me, gave a big sigh and said, "It is going to be tough for you to heal. It will pain and you will have massive swelling." When he said 'massive swelling' his hands went far out. My expression was definitely like a goat in a lion's cage, but he was undeterred by that. He was very,very honest. He went on for a couple of minutes about dos and don'ts which I did not hear. I just kept nodding. (No one told me how complicated this was before the surgery! All the consulting dentists had also seen the same X-Ray and they had said nothing!)

After getting a shot (perhaps for pain-relief - I don't know), I went out to the sitting room to my husband and sat next to him with my eyes wide after the ordeal. I tried to tell him that I will have swelling for three days, but he could not decipher my dumb charades. Little did I know I had more audience, an old uncle, who piped up and tried to guess what I was trying to say every now and then. I was ecstatic, each time he would get it right.

Then the post-operative doc gave us another set of guidelines and very scary things about how much pain I would have. This time my husband was with me. I asked him if he would remember what she was saying. They charged me truckloads extra for the complicated tooth extraction. I did not and most importantly - could not - argue for not being warned before the surgery. Which patient would argue in a state like that?

A doc came out after some time and gave me a very sad "you-are-going-to-be-in-a-lot-of-pain" look. He did not have a mask on, so I realized this was the surgeon who had pulled out the teeth. "Come tomorrow morning. I will give you another injection". What?? Why??! :( The real pain started 3 days after the surgery. The whole thing terrified me so much, that I have promised myself I will never go to a dentist again!

Monday Blues and Friday Hues!

It was a FRIDAY! Finally!! :D And this Friday was a special one. I had a lot of special things planned for the weekend. Had been looking forward to it.

It was 5.30 pm. I stared at the clock on my desktop computer in office. I looked away from the clock and after a min (so I thought) stealthily looked back at the clock hoping it would have changed by now! Alas! It had not…I remembered Einstein’s Theory of Relativity! This incident seemed to be a relevant example. Time did seem to crawl at its sloooowest pace…

The pickup-and-drop vehicle that drops me home leaves from office at 6 pm. So, I had to stay put. There was no point in leaving the office building. It was hot and humid outside.

I remembered how the week had been. It had whizzed by. Loads of work and pressure. Despite of the fact that I am not the only person running the company. Sometimes I wonder what Mr. CEO must be going through. Does he enjoy his Friday evenings, I wonder…

The week had started with me getting up lazily from my bed early on Monday morning. Then, the clock had seemed to RUN on its hands! Quite literally, I mean. Each time I would close my eyes for just a second (so I thought) and then open them again to take a peek at the clock, I would see that the minute hand of the clock has run all the way across the dial. A million snooze alarms helped me drag myself out of bed, eventually - and the rest of the household too!

“Take a leave, take a leave,” said one part of my brain when my eyes beheld the comfortable cozy bed. But the other part, trained since childhood to attend school, college, etc everyday told me to go office unless of course I wanted a work backlog to be completed! The two parts of my brain fought fiercely while I absent-mindedly chewed on to my tooth-brush and stared at myself in the mirror. But the second one won. So, after getting ready and having my breakfast, I ran out of house, just in time.

Monday morning blues are the worst things on earth. They can make one really moody. I think they should keep special things in offices to help employees drive away their Monday morning blues. Something like, ‘Fun at work’ activities? :D Or something like, late pick-ups for everyone, so that employees can sleep till late on Monday mornings! (Is this going too far?!!)

The week zipped passed with more and more work piling up. But the feeling of coming back home to someone everyday is incomparable, indescribable.

Here I was, on the last day of the week, still staring at the clock. Luckily, I had finished my work for the day, so that meant no backlog for Monday. Somehow during the final few minutes of Friday evenings (just before a well-planned weekend) I cannot do anything too productive.

I dreamt about my weekend that was to follow. It was going to be great! I would get to wake up late. :D No traffic, no local trains, no fear of walking past a live bomb (!!!).

I looked at the clock again ad stifled a huge yawn. It was 5.40 pm. Ten mins to go...I opened my mailbox to check my mail. There was a new mail. I saw the subject line – hoping it would be something worthwhile to read. But it was some silly administrative mail. Sigh!

I glanced at the watch again and felt my tummy rumble with hunger. It was snacks-time and my tummy knew it! I smiled wide to myself, picked up my bag and left for the cafeteria with my fellow-colleagues! Everyone seemed to be suddenly very enthusiastic. It felt great to walk out of the office-building and say good-bye to it for a couple of days…