Button fingers

“See I learned to button my shirt. Watch.”
I sit down and watch as Thom buttons his shirt. It is a long process, the button keeps slipping from his fingers and he grows frustrated after each failed attempt. Fifteen minutes later he has success with one button and there are three more to go. I prepare for a long wait. But as I watch I begin to appreciate the level of dexterity needed for the process. He had learned to use the computer mouse in ten minutes but the shirt buttons had been giving him a hard time. But he has mastered it at last and the look on his face showed he felt like the king of the world.
He is all of three years and 7 months old and cannot wait to be independent, he likes to dress himself, decides what to wear and feeds himself.
“See all the buttons are down.”
“Wow!! You are a very clever boy.”
“Let me show you again” He promptly undoes all the buttons and then starts buttoning up again.

Baby Sitting

“Do you think your mother will come and stay with us?” We were lying on the bed in the afternoon. I had been to an interview in the morning and this was the most troubling aspect of my job search. Each time I seemed about to get a job, we worried about Thom. If we both worked who would look after him and inevitably if we did not find good babysitters, I worry so much that my work suffers and I lose my job. That has been the pattern till now. We were hoping amma would come and stay with us and help take care of the baby. But she really was not keen on it, it meant leaving home and coming to Dubai and staying with us. Besides, while I loved having amma here, I really had a problem with Joe’s attitude towards it. To him, amma was doing us a service and he wants to pay her for it and amma wants to be treated as part of the family and feels insulted when she is paid for looking after her grandson.

Anyway yesterday when he was drunk, the tone hadn’t been like this, it was more like, “Hmm!! So your mother won’t come heh! I need to know fast.”
I say, “She didn’t say she is not coming, just that she needed time.”
“What time? Anyone who decides to come, I am getting a three year residence visa.”
I keep silent.
“I don’t think you will get the job.”

But today it is all honey and milk, he wants amma here. He knows no one will look after his son better than amma.
“Ask her again.”
“I will.”
“Why does she not want to come?”
“She says the house is old and if no one lives in it and takes care of it will be attacked by termites.”
“How about Vena? What is she saying? She wants amma to come and stay with us.”
“Yeah, She is the only one who feels amma will better of with us than there.”
“Anyway we will get her here on a visit visa and than see how it goes.”
There it stands. As they haven’t called yet about the job offer, we are keeping our fingers crossed, waiting.

Making school fun

After weeks and weeks of “Amma, the teacher hates me. I don’t want to go to school”
I decided I needed to get to the root of these feelings.
The previous term he had loved going to school, the only fights we used to have was about what he should wear. Then too on uniform days, I only had to say “today is uniform day” and he was up and ready to go. But this term everyday has been a nightmare. It would start the previous night and would continue into the morning, the incessant whining of
“No school today please.”
I spoke to the teacher, “But he is doing fine in class. He does his colouring. He is doing fine.”
This went on for sometime but he still hated going.
So I called the teacher again last week, “I need your help. Thom is always complaining about his class. He says the teacher does not like him. So if you could make a little fuss over him everyday before he leaves for home, it would really help.”
She was apologetic, “But maam it is really not like that. We do that everyday, when they leave class, we tell them goodbye and see tomorrow.”
“But it does not seem to be enough. Fuss over him a little more so that he will want to come to school the next day.”
She seemed scared, “But he is fine in class.”
I try to calm her down; “Well children say a lot of things that is necessarily not true. So don’t worry, I am not blaming you. All I am saying is I want you to make him feel you like him a lot.”
The problem with these teachers is that being underpaid, they prefer to do the bare minimum. But the moment you raise an issue with them they are on the defensive worried about their jobs. Considering the Dubai market system, which is really client/customer, based than worker based, anyone can lose his or her jobs on the slightest complaint from the client. I did not want her to lose her job nor did I want my son to go through playschool hating it. Anyway I left it at that and waited for the next day.
The morning was as usual, “The teacher will scold me” and tears. At 1.00Pm I picked up a very different child. He was actually smiling after school. He was eager to tell me things that happened in the class and told me, “When I go to class tomorrow, I want Idli for lunch.”
“Did you finish today’s lunch?”
“Yes, and the teacher said I am a good boy.”
“Then I finished my coloring and she again said I am a good boy.”
Well, he couldn’t stop telling me about the day, which was something that had not happened before this term.
So the teacher had changed her methods and we were getting results fast. This morning has been the best in a very long time. He actually went to school smiling and happy and came back the same. I have to call up the teacher and thank her for her help, for making my morning’s stress free.

Messing in up

Today morning we had heavy mist outside. The funny thing about mist is that we think of mist or fog as cold but here in Dubai it is actually warm and thick. One can barely see ones feet if you happen to look down. Dubai is turning pretty with all the Zinnias and marigold flowering on the road dividers and sides of the roads. Come winter, the place turns picturesque with all the flowers.

A few days back I was called for an interview for the post of secretary. I did not want to go, as I really am lousy as a secretary. I am better at making others work rather than working myself. Anyway I did not inform Joe about this. Later they called and postponed the interview to after Id holi9days. Then the day we had gone to KM Trading with Reji, he showed us their new office and it just happened to be the same building as the one they called me for interview.

“Which floor are you on?” I asked.

“The mezzanine floor.”

“Name of the company.”

“Snenor”

“OH My God!! I was called for an interview there. Then they called to postpone it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted to ask you but forgot. Even Joe did not tell me.”

“I did not tell Joe, because they canceled.”

It seems Joe had given him my CV. And I do not know what hell would have broken out if it had all not been cleared up. I would not have told Joe, and when Reji asked him about it, he would have asked me and found out that I had not informed him in spite of knowing it for sometime and that would have been my end. Sometimes things like this happen, things that can mess up everything, then it clears up by itself with no help from us. Then things happen that no matter how much fixing we do, remains messed up forever.

Bad Parents

Private offices are closed for two days for Id al Fittr; everyone makes plans for the long weekend. Usually the government manages to combine the holidays with the weekend so everyone ends up having a few extra days off. Okay, so on Sunday a friend of Joe’s invited us to lunch and another family, again Joe’s friends were also coming. They have a daughter who four years old and a one year old son. This girl has not put into playschool yet, because her father does not want to spend the money (Her mother told me this). She spends her time holed up in a two-bedroom house they share with another family. All this alone time with no contact with other children has turned her very aggressive and bullying towards other children. All parents with small children have a hard time when we know that this family is also joining us for our get to togethers.

So we all show up this friend’s place for lunch and they have a son who is 7 or 8 and also has a broken arm. This little girl, lets call her Deepa, immediately goes off to hang from the broken arm like a pendulum. The boy starts screaming and all of us go and see what the noise is all about and sort everything out and go back to talking, leaving the children to play by themselves. Then Thom runs out crying, saying Deepa chechi is hitting me with the plastic hoe. He refuses to go back and join the other children so we move into the children’s room to keep an eye on them. Deepa starts going berserk, throwing things and opening the cupboards and taking out books, writing on them. The owner of these things, the 8-year-old boy (Kush), tries to take everything back and she refuses, starts hitting and spitting. We all sit there helpless; after all she is a child. But what about the mother? She sat there smiling, through the entire mess her daughter created, occasionally saying she doesn’t know any better. She will change only after she starts school.

Children are not born bad, they are made bad by parents who refuse to reign in their precious ones. What will happen when she starts school next year can only be imagined? If she meets a child more aggressive and violent than herself, she will be shown her place otherwise she will turn into bully no:1 bullying other children. I am glad Thom is not going to the same school as her but I fear what if there are others like her out there. Children of bad parents.

Weekends, Visitors and Hang overs

“Are they coming?”

Joe wanted to know. It was Friday and he wanted to go out to his friend’s house and get drunk. Come weekend I get to see my hubby only late in the night, fully drunk, and now in spite of Ramadan curfew, they had a place to hang out – Reji’s wife was in India and they had the house to themselves.

“They said they would call. Anyway they have to attend the church in the morning and then Sunday school for the kids. Then lunch.”

“Okay call me when they call.”

He is off and it is only 9.30 in the morning. Thom is restless and angry. It is his only day with Appa and Appa has better plans than waste it with him. I feel sorry for him but am helpless. I used to try to make him understand how important it is for us to spend time together as a family. I don’t anymore. Every Thursday I make plans of taking Thom to the zoo or park, but Joe is too busy getting drunk to bother.

At around 1.00Pm he calls, “Have they called yet?”

“No.”

I can feel him smiling and thinking, ”Ah!!! Lucky me, I can drink some more.”

But he says, “ Now they will come only in the evening” His voice is all blurred from the alcohol. And I feel angry. I don’t want my old classmate to see him drunk and senseless.

At around 5.00 Pran calls, “ Hi, we just got up from our afternoon siesta and will be starting only in half an hour. Is Joe Achayan free?”

“Okay.”

I start cleaning the house, changing the cushion covers, sweeping and mopping and spraying air freshener all over the house. I light scented candles. The house looks spic and span. Then I call Joe, and tell him that they are coming.

“I am downstairs in the car park.”

I know he is lying, “We need water. Don’t forget to get water.”

He comes in at about 6.30. And looks around. “ Do you have anything to give them?”

“Yea, There is orange juice, Halwa, and Cashew nuts.”

“Okay.”

Then he goes to sleep. Another hour and a half later the phone rings. “Pran here. We are in front of Ansar mall. Tell me how to get to your place.”

I try to explain but am totally lost, then I call Joe and he says, “You tell them.”

I hold out the phone to him, “Please do it, I am totally confused and so are they.”

He reluctantly gets up and comes to the phone. He tells them something and puts the phone down.

“Grrrring.”

The phone rings again. He picks it up and gives further directions. They seem to have taken the wrong turn.

Joe wakes Thom, who is also sleeping and goes off to take a bath.

They call again and tell us they are below our building. Joe tells them he is coming down.

A few minutes later the doorbell rings and Thom the Spiderman and I open the door. I am seeing Pran after 20years and he is different. We used to all him “Soda Kuppi” because he was so thin that his cheeks were sunken like the soda bottles of those days- ones with the marble instead of a cap. His wife is very young and sweet and they have two beautiful kid. Thom hits it off with the kids and they are all soon playing having fun. We talk about old times, about the reunion and not being able to attend it. He talks about his work. We look at old school photos and soon it is time for them to leave. We take some photos to send to our other classmates.

Thom decides he wants to with them and starts crying. He says, “I want to go to Maria chechi’s house.”

“Who is Maria chechi?”

“The chechi who came now said they are going to Maria chechi’s house to eat fruits.”

“I will give you fruits here.”

“No, I want to eat fruits in Maria chechi’s house.”

No amount reasoning would calm him. He went to bed very upset about the fruits in the unknown Maria chechi’s house.

Mood swings

I am on one of my mood swing days. I have this on an average of 4 days a month. These mood swings are like pendulum, swing to the highest point, then to lowest. I go from days of “I have a wonderful life. I am just lucky to have all these wonderful chances which given my family’s financial background, I would never have had. These chances to make sure that everyone in my family had the chance to get out of the maddening cycle of poverty.” Then the good happy feeling goes dies down and is replaced with, “My life is hell. No one likes me. I might as well be dead.” It goes from a sort of Songs of Solomon to Ecclesiastes. Happy satisfied to what is the use, it has all been planned by him and we are just puppets in his hands.

The negative feeling s are worst when I hear of some friend or other acquaintance getting a good job, with good salary, excellent timings, everything great. Exactly the kind of job that I was looking for. I land all these beastly jobs with low salary and everyone else seems to be getting good ones. Or it is sometimes triggered by the incessant nagging and fault finding that Joe subjects me to.

It is some times as silly as

“What is the side dish with chapatti?”

“Chicken curry.”

“Does the curry have gravy?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Damn, why is it that your curries have no gravy? How can one eat chapatti without gravy?”

Or sometimes it is

“The house is never clean.”

I look around and see nothing wrong. I have just finished cleaning and there are few toys scattered around by Thom and he happens to be playing with them.

“I don’t know when you will learn. The house has to be clean all the time.”

I am silent.

“Neither you nor anyone in your family is clean. I have never seen an untidier family.”

This goes on for sometime and then stops.

When the bad mood sets in I am in a death wish mode. I was watching an episode of The Monk on TV and there is this scene where a lady opens a parcels that had just come in and the whole thing blows up killing her. I find myself thinking that is how I would like to go, Suddenly, without any pain.

Thekke-vadakke

“I hate these stupid things you cook up. If you are making these for me, please don’t. Make beans thoran and I am happy.”

I seethe inside and think of the times I have made beans thoran, a dish that I personally hate and he eats a spoon of it and I end up with having to finish it rather than waste the whole thing.

Our tastes vary vastly in everything from food to personality, to clothes to the way we deal with people. If it hadn’t been for the arranged marriage system we have, we wouldn’t even have got married. And marriage in the Syrian Christian means stuck for life. We come from the same community of Syrian Christian but actually from two different cultures-the thekke and vadakke namely the north and south of Kerala. The people in the north prefer not to marry those from the south because the southerners are considered bossy, money oriented, miserly and basically everything bad. So we actually have a saying when looking for eligible boys and girls, “Don’t look to the south of Ernakulam (Ernakulathinne thekke nokenda)”

It is really not a problem because the southerners themselves prefer to marry among themselves. The problem is when a lone northerner like me ends up among all these southies, they are all interrelated, and I am the outsider. I am never good at anything, never good enough. The way I do things is wrong and my people are not good enough. The way I cook is wrong, the way I dress is absolutely wrong, talking and smiling and all else is just well wrong wrong wrong. I am all together wrong. All the achayans, ammachis, appachans and chachi peechi koochis get along well. Okay that is enough bile for a day.

As usual I ignore his comment and get on with it.
“We have an ifftar party in the office today.”
“Hmmm”
“We will go out after that to KM trading.”
“Why KM trading?”
“There is sale there and Zyriac and Reji wants to go.”
“Lulu also has a sale, why not go there?”
“Zyriac says KM Trading has better stuff.”
“Nonsense I prefer Lulu.”

Later at KM Trading Thom comes upon the Spiderman costume and picks it up and takes it to Appa. He is excited and wants to wear it.
“Wait till we pay for it.”
We pay the bills and Thom insists on carrying the purchase. It is heavy and he is dragging. I offer to carry it for him.
“But keep it with you, don’t put it in the boot of the car.”
“Can we go home now please, I want to try on the Spiderman dress.”?
At home he changes into Spiderman and tries to send out webs, then starts complaining,
”Why is no web coming out of my hands?”
I give him some explanation, he is not convinced.
The phone rings and it is my classmate Pran, ”We are coming to Dubai tomorrow, is it okay if we come to your house.”
“Of course, Please come. It will be great to see you after 20 years.”
“Would it be okay with your husband?”
“Sure.”
We are both stuck in UAE and won’t be able to attend the reunion party being planned for December and we are really upset about it. After 20 years all of us would love to go back and see how the others have done in life. See the children of old friends.
“Are you checking the mail,” I ask him. “They managed to contact Sree teacher.”
“ I haven’t checked the mail for sometime now. Well, Sree teacher and Thanku teacher were my backbone. They made me what I am today. They guided me in deciding on a professional career.”
Well, lucky you, I think. I really never had a good personal relation with any of the teachers. I was the only girl in the boarding in my class but even that did not help in forming a close relation. Besides the professional career he was talking about was more money related than guidance related. His father was rich and able to pay the capitation fee for professional course. All the guidance would have been useless without money.

Joe is still out with friends and will be back late. Thom and I retire to bed happy that next five days there is no school to worry about. The Id holidays are here.

Stereotypes

“Change the channel, I want to watch Cartoon network.”

“Sorry, we don’t get cartoon network anymore. Watch ejunior.”

“No, I like Cartoon Network.”

“But you are picking up bad words from Cartoon Network.”

“I want Cartoon Network.”

“Check out this channel.” I change to Fun channel another kid’s channel.

“No, give me cartoon network.”

“Maybe this channel”, I change to MBC 3.

“I want Cartoon Network.”

I end up giving in and return to cooking lunch.

“Stupid.”

“See you are using bad words, which is why I don’t like you watching cartoon network.”

“It wasn’t me; it was the old man in the cartoon. He was calling his dog stupid dog.”

“Okay but don’t say stupid again.”

“Is lunch ready?”

“Yes in a moment.”

“Is lunch ready?”

Soon lunch is over and Joe is back from office. We prepare for our afternoon siesta.

I don’t want to sleep. I am watching TV.”

No, You haven’t had enough sleep in the last few days, so switch off the TV and come to bed.”

No, I don’t want to sleep.”

I go over, switch off the TV and pick him up and carry him to the bed.

“I don’t like amma.”

“But you are my darling jeevanette jeevan.”

He smiles. Then I tell him that I am going to climb on top off Appa.

“Help, Help Amma is climbing on top of me, Help help.”

“Dishuum, Dishuum. I am sending the spider man’s web to stop her.”

Soon we have an action hero on the bed fighting off evil amma from crushing poor Appa. A few well-placed punches and amma is thrown off Appa. Then a few tins of spinach in true Popeye style and he has recouped his strength to take on the world’s evil.

The actions over we lie quietly for sometime. He watches my face closely and says, “ You are growing a beard, and you are becoming uncle.”

I am pleased that he has started to tell the difference between male and female, though in this case it was more a reference to unwanted female facial hair.

I fall asleep and they play some more before getting up to watch TV. Then Thom comes and tells me, “Amma make tea for Appa.”

“Ask Appa to make tea for me .”

He looks surprised, “ But you are tea making person and Appa is the TV watching person.”

How well we end up training even three year old to think stereotypically!!!!

Tea and some snacks over, I get a call from Binnu saying they are coming to visit and they stay till 10.00, so we into another late night. This week has been one of late bed times for Thom. Next week we will make for the lost sleep during Id holidays.

Time tables

“Time for Amma’s darling to get up” I call out.
“Get up for what?”
“To go to school.”
“ I don’t want to go to school, I hate school. The teacher scolds me.”
“No, the teacher won’t scold you, she likes you very much.”
“No she hates me.”
“Okay , enough of this nonsense, get up at once or I will send you to school in your night dress.”
This is our early morning routine. We go back and forth like this till I lose patience.
“ I want to sleep.”
“See what happens when you don’t go to bed early.” He is cranky from lack of sleep. His eyes are burly and bed shot.

A ghee roast later, he is ready for bath. “The water is too hot.”
I mix in more cold water, “ Is this okay.”
“I hate school, the teacher hates me.”
I ignore that.
“I have an armpit ache”
Wow!! That is a new one.
Soon he is getting ready for school. More tears and then “ I hate you”.
I feel sorry for him he really is sleepy.
Waiting for the bus I show him other children going to school. He looks at the buses and tells me, “ They are not going to school they are coming back home.” I make no comments.
Soon he is in his bus, off to school.

Back home, Joe has a worried look on his face, “His teacher called. She wanted to know if he was an only child.”
“Didn’t you ask her why she wanted to know?”
“No, I just said yes.”
“Do you think he has learning disability or something? Maybe she feels we are spoiling him too much.”

“Are you going to the office today? How is your tummy?”

“Not decided yet. Make me dosas and then we will see.”

Seated in front of the dosas, he looks at the sambhar and asks, “ Where is the chutney?”

“There was no grated coconut, so I did not make chutney.”

“I hate dosas without chutney, that is the primary side dish, sambhar is secondary.”

He has everything done to a fine equation. Even the sambhar and chutneys.

I say nothing, though I feel like pouring the sambhar over his head and watch his shock and surprise at my reaction. I just wish he would finish his breakfast and leave. But then the tummy acts up and going to office is delayed further.

Sometime later he goes off and I am alone in my castle. I park myself in front of the computer and soon am king of the world surfing the web at will. I soon reach my latest passion the www.wikimapia.org site. It is the satellite image of the world and 200ft zoom I see my home in Kerala, Amma’s tharavad, Joe’s house, our school. I am happy.

A look at the clock and it is 12.30. I am late for everything, the lunch isn’t ready. So I rush around, manage to get everything done and then go downstairs to collect Thom. Joe joins me and then goes back home with Thom and me. Then he says he does not want lunch only buttermilk blended with chili and ginger. The fish is being deep-fried.

“Is the fish done?”

No, in a moment. Let me finish making buttermilk for Appa and will give you lunch.”

"Okay”

Then immediately, “Is the fish ready?”

He is hungry. I check his lunch box. There is one idli left over.

"Why did you not finish your idli?”

“The teacher closed the lunch box before I could finish.”

“That is because you took too much time finishing the first idli.”

After lunch, we try to get some sleep. But at 3.30 PM we are still awake.

Joe goes off to his office and I bathe and feed Thom early. Joe comes home and has his chapattis at 7.30Pm. We are all ready for an early bedtime today. 8.00 Pm and we are in bed, hoping to make up for lost sleep.

8.30Pm someone rings the doorbell. “Must be Reji.” Joe says.
He opens the door and it is indeed Reji.
“Its Reji uncle.” And he is off running.

At 9.00Pm he is gone and we are back in bed.

The bell rings again, “Who is it now?”
It is Sivan and we sit around talking some more.
Then he leaves and it is 9.30Pm and then I decide to take bath and then go to bed instead of waiting for Thom to sleep. I am finished at 10.00Pm one and half-hours after the hoped for bedtime and Thom is still playing, with sleep being the furthest thing in his mind. I get into bed and ignore all of them and go to sleep. When I wake up later I hear the blessed light snoring or the father and son and settle back for a peaceful night’s sleep.

Upset tummy and Earaches

I heard the toilet being flushed then the call, “Koche, get dressed, let’s go see the doctor.” The night had been terrible, and upset stomach and a severe earache combined with high temperature. “Call the hospital and find out if the doctor is coming in today.”

“Sure, the doctor is coming, why would she not come in today.”

But I call anyway,” The doctor is on leave today, but you can see one of the other doctor’s on duty today.”

Great!! We have seen three different doctors in as many days.

“Doesn’t matter, we need to see the ENT specialist.”

I hear him call the office and tell them to inform Jal the driver to get the car ready to go to the hospital and in a few minutes we are near in the car park and Jal is nowhere to be found. We wait and I can see Jo lose patience slowly and get angrier each minute he has to wait.

“I will go and get him”, I offer.

“No.”

We wait some more. Then I say, ” I will go and see what is keeping him.”

He says nothing. He is in real pain.

I run toward the office and keep looking back at Jo to make sure he is still holding up. I am at the door of the office and Jal opens the door and comes out saying, ” Sorry Chechi, there was a Sri Lankan customer very angry at something.”

There wasn’t much of traffic and we are in the hospital in a few minutes. The receptionist is friend and she sees the file and says three different doctors and smiles, ” The procedure is for you to see a GP and then be referred to a ENT doctor, but we will take you straight to the ENT.”

There is big huge queue for the ENT and we wait and wait, I finish an entire magazine and then sit somemore before we are called in.

Jo narrates his disease history and he really takes a long time doing it, inspite of all my attempts to cut in and shorten it. Then its over and the doctor can finally examine him. He pokes and pulls, uses the tuning fork.
Then goes, ” There is no infection in your ears. They are perfect. I can find no reason for the earache. I am sending you to the physician for an overall checkup. It may be related to your nerves.”

Then we are at the physicians. He gets the entire story and tummy upset and earache, sleepless nights etc etc. Then he does his share of checking and he says, ” I am changing the medicines prescribed, you had been prescribed medicine for throat infection no Gastro infection. No medicines to stop the bowel movements, but let us cure the infection and it will automatically stop. Your ear, it cannot be the nerves because it wouldn’t have stopped by taking a paracetamol if nerves were causing it. It has to be something else but I cannot find it.”

At the pharmacy they offer to take back the previous antibiotic and replace it with the new ones and we tell them we will Jal with the old medicine. Back at home, I cook and clean and wipe and he lies on the bed uncomfortable. All the time I am thinking of how I have never been in a hospital all my life, have never had a real illness but I have this feeling that I will one day suddenly drop dead before all the others.

One O’clock time to pick up Thom when his school bus drops him off. So off I go and get him, He had been upset in the morning about going to school but now is cheerful. Back at home lunch over, he sits in front of the TV watching Cartoons. Jo has a light lunch and goes to sleep.

Santosh comes for a visit and I tell him I want a DVD writer to be installed and he makes arrangements for it. He is going to Kerala for the Id holidays- 10 days. So I tell him amma asked for a tin of Nido milk powder.

Soon it is time for Thom’s bed time routine he is given dinner and put in bath tub for bath and the guests start coming to see Jo. They all stay late and Thom is up way past him bed time and I am angry. I know I will have a very cranky child in the morning tomorrow.

Growing up

After a lot of talk about Reunions and partying everything has stopped there is a sudden silence over the net. Emails have stopped coming and no one seems to want to break the ice. The problem is everyone is scattered around the world and there is no way all of us will b able to make it to the reunion together some of us will be left out and we have not been able to reach a consensus on that. Everyone wants to be there and everyone wants the reunion to b planned at his or her convenience. Something will work out in the end. Someone will break the ice and then we will all start mailing again and al will be back to normal.

It is easy to talk to them now but when we were all in the same class we had this rule strictly enforced by the school and teachers, about the sexes not mingling and becoming friends. So the girls were scared to even look at the boys and boys pretended that we did not exist. Add to that the infatuations and crushes of teenage, everyone was shy. The rules ensured that we didn’t mess up our good formative years, unlike these days when children from good Indian families think that casual sex is okay, getting an abortion is totally a guilt free and common place activity.

Recent newspaper reports show that abortion rate has gone up by 50% in Bangalore among the young call center crowd. Employees go to their work places with condoms in their bags. I remember the first time I saw a condom was when I was 30 years old. Maybe I matured late.

Love and Hate

Love is strange, when the person is no more we realize how much he meant. I sometimes feel the same with J. I find it so difficult to feel love towards him. He always makes me feel like a schoolgirl always under the scrutiny of strict teachers, always being judges and found guilty of some unimaginable crime that is visible to them but invisible to me. I really wish he weren’t like that. A little more understanding would work miracles in our life. Now every act is clouded by fear of what he will think, how he will react. So most of the time I end up doing nothing, taking no decisions and then getting judged for that. He frightens me with his temper which flares up for reason that I have no control over. Yet he is not a bad man. He takes care of everything, me, our son. Everything is paid for, all bills always clear, our futures secured and sometimes during sex he even says he loves me but that is it. There is nothing after that. He does not look at me and talk to me loving. There are no smiles or kisses, all that is only during sex. I end up feeling that my purpose in life is to provide sex and as an outlet for his anger.

Maybe it is a case of breeding. A father, who provided for the family but did not love them, brought him up. He did his duty as prescribed by the society but failed to provide the emotional support that nurtures. Scared of the father the mother too remained too distant. Unloved in childhood, he did not learn to love. It is his tragedy but now it is mine too. Maybe if he had a chance to get to know my family he would see what real love feels like, but he like his family is too stubborn. They believe they are the best, and have nothing to learn from others but a lot to teach the world.