Love your brother!

1-19-11

Dearest Winkie,


It is confirmed. You are a letter writer. And believe it to be the best mode of communication. Especially when talking doesn't work. Or complaining. Or begging. Or anything. When your brother turns a deaf ear to all your spoken pleas, you write to him. And put it in his mailbox. Never mind that he doesn't read a single string of words yet. Never mind that even when I read it to him, he smiled most understandingly, as if he 'got' what I was saying, and went right back to his 'troubling' ways! None of that matters, because all you wanted to do was write and say it and get it out of your system.

I still remember that somber look on your face when you very purposefully strode over to me, to ask if you could tear a page out of my little lined notebook. You wanted to write a letter, you said. I nodded absently, because me and your father were busy brainstorming on how we were going to transform the toy-room into a boys' haven. I know now which pen you used, by the colour and mark of the ink. As an aside, let me tell you, that this pen gives you a very good hand. Your handwriting was unbelievable to me when I first saw the letter. Beautiful!

Anyways, 10 minutes later, you were back in the room, striding even more purposefully now, to his little mailbox. He was oblivious to all the goings on of course, as was your father. But somehow, in the middle of all that idea-throwing, I managed to catch the look on your face. Firmly set jaw, flashing eyes, and this determined look on your face....as if saying, There, that does it! You also gave me a curt nod as our eyes briefly met. And then you were gone.

Today, when some semblance of order is coming back into the room, my eyes happened to fall on Thambi's mailbox, and I suddenly remembered what was tucked inside it. Your father was there too, and we excitedly opened it, waiting to see what special words your mind had concocted. And we were not disappointed! I've already talked about the beautiful hand, so we'll skip that. But do you know how to spell the word 'thorough'? For that is what you are. One look at the neatly inscribed date on top, is enough to rest my case. Learn the meaning of this word, for you have already learnt what it is to be thorough. :)

Emphatic. That's another word buddy. How you emphatically stress on the 'If you stop troubling..' and the 'I will give you a surprise...' bit. Over and over again in a loop, such that he will get the message. Loud and clear. No scope of confusions. :).

Efficient. I love how you have used one sentence to convey 2 very separate things. You may have forgotten a comma there, or it may be a deliberate ruse to convey the double meaning. Love, your brother...you say, in a typical way to end a letter. And Love your brother, you tell him, keeping in mind the tone of authoritative request in the rest of your letter. Its brilliant how you hit two birds with one stone. No...no....we are not  actually killing any birds here, love. Its a saying. Just saying. :)

Cognizance. Your singing off as Anna was a masterstroke. Especially after using the word 'brother' just before it. Its like you remembered how I have always stressed your importance in the family to Thambi, as his Anna. How I have always insisted that he call you that. By signing off thus, you are re-iterarting to him that you are his older brother, and he better believe it! And like an Anna, you will care for him and love him in all the ways that he should be loved and cared for. That respect matters. That names, while beautiful, cannot be half as charming as the relationship that precedes it. Somehow, you get that and I dig that about you. Now let us hope that Thambi shows that same cognizance. :)

Finally, let me tell you that what I liked most about your letter is that you wrote a letter. I love that you love tearing paper out of my precious notebook, and dishing out my favoritest pen out of the cup, to string together the words of your intent. I love that you are using the mailbox gifted to us long back, that I am still not using with you. I love that I get to keep and store your precious letter in a number of ways, in a keepsake box, through the soft copy picture here and through my own letter, right back at ya!

Love your mother,

Amma.

P.S. - Please remind me to get you your own stationery! Stat!

Meet Nic!

I am glad today was one of those days, when the boys wore all their woollies. Jackets, boots, hats, gloves, everything. I am glad today was one of those days when I wasn't still in my PJ's, thanks to my early morning stint at the gym. I am glad today was one of those days when my cell was fully charged. I am glad for all these things, because we got into an accident this morning. Right after we dropped R to the station and were heading back home, just at that point when we were making a slight right turn at a curve, we went over an invisible patch of ice and rammed hard into the car ahead of us. Because he too had skidded in the same way and gone over a median. If he hadn't been there, it would have been just a simple skid matter, with minimal damage to Buddy, but since he was there right ahead of me, with a nice little bumper sticker that read 'Change the way you see....not the way you look!', we had to rear end into him, and Buddy had to lose his bumper, hood and God knows what else inside.

But thank God for the fact that we were going slow....25 mph, and that we weren't going fast enough to get hurt, and that the guy we rammed into totally understood where I was coming from when I told him about the ice, and that there was a police car just at the corner, who was at the said position after having tended to 2 other accidents at the very same point, and he could get to us in under 2 min, with neither of us making a call on the phone. A bit of a bummer that I still got a citation and a ticket, from hitting him from the back. Too bad that Winkie needed to pee so badly, he was miserable for the entire 2 hours that we spent there. But thank God it wasn't snowing, and it wasn't windy or bitterly cold, but just the regular cold which you could get comfy with, with a pair of gloves and a hat. 

Thank God for the nice officer who stayed with us till the end, lending us the backseat of his car for the boys to stay warm in, entertaining them with conversation and questions, leaving me relaxed to make my calls, get things done. And one of the nicest things when you call the insurance company, is that they are not all business. They care enough to take the time to ask you....I'm so sorry about the accident. Are you okay? Was anybody hurt? Thank the Lord for that sweet tow truck guy, who gave me all the time I needed to clear stuff out of Buddy, before I handed him the keys to take him away. Thank goodness for the nice guy at the car rental, who told me on the phone....just get here Ma'am, and we'll take care of everything for you! What a nice thing that is to hear in an emergency! Thank goodness for R, who stayed calm and focused on the matter at hand, guiding me quietly through what I had to do next. Thank goodness for my own presence of mind, that pieced all the jumbled parts together, making a logical flow of it for staying on top of the situation. Thank goodness for that nice cheery wave, the driver of the car in front of me gave as he drove away. We parted on such nice terms. Of course, it may have been from the fact that it was not him getting the ticket, but why nitpick? :)

And thank goodness for this cute new little car that we have brought home. He's a Nissan Cube, the only other mid-size car there, covered entirely by the insurance, and whom we've aptly and promptly christened. Meet Nic everyone. We don't know how long he's staying, but you can be sure, I'll treat him real nice! :)

# 600. Just until the door.

This is post # 600. And probably the slowest century I have made. :) And to commemorate it, I have a story to share. Something that happened one winter ago, but even now, even in this next winter, warms my heart...

As part of my work, I had to visit a farmhouse for some accounting. And being a farmhouse, there were some animals there, of which there were also 3 dogs. Two of them were still puppies, and one was pretty old and quite blind too, and if I am not mistaken, all three were collies. Now everytime my car pulled into the driveway, they would hear and come bounding rapidly from whichever part of the backyard they were in and bark around my car. Now I love dogs. I really do. But the sight of the three of them, nay two of them (for the blind, black one would just walk more leisurely behind the other two), on that high energy mode right outside Buddy, always had me tensing up for a quick second. I would always pray before I got out, and then walk casually upto the door. They would watch and follow me all the way through. The other 2 were actually very shy and would never let me pet them, especially this one golden one. He would always back out of reach if I tried to touch him, in that he was quite touchy. :) But the old blind girl was really sweet. She loved the attention, she loved the touch and would enjoy it liberally till the front door, and once I was inside, I would actually miss them. And everytime I went to work there, I always started out with that little fear and then start to relax as I got out and they kept their distance.

Now there was this one time, when I had to go back after a long gap. And I was once again a little stressed at the thought of countering that fear again. Moreover it was fiercely cold and the roads were pretty icy, and driving in those conditions always has me a bit tensed at the wheel. I turned into their driveway, and looked in horror as the entire path was layered with a thick coat of ice. It literally was like an ice rink. How was I going to walk that slight stretch from the car to the door, and that too with the dogs bounding up and down??? I was quite petrified with the ice, and paranoid of falling ever since my fracture fall. And that day, the prayer inside the car, was not just about the dogs, it was about the ice too. And making it safely across, carrying my purse as well as the big files, and taking each step without any other support.

I got out, and the black, blind one was sitting in a basket snugly in the garage. It was the end of her time, I was told earlier, and she wasn't moving much these days. I felt a little sad seeing her that way, but focussed my attention back to my own steps. Of the two pups, the golden one, the one who never liked being touched, was watching me from a few yards away. I wasn't even aware of him much, as I prayed and took a step, prayed and took a step....! And suddenly, he was there, right there next to me, snuggling against my right leg. The fear suddenly came back, together with the already tight knot that had built inside me, and I felt a moment of irritation as I wondered why he was doing that. Why couldn't he leave me alone like all the other days? But he wouldn't budge. He followed my every step with a step of his own, but pressing his golden body against my leg, his tail wagging. I almost slipped on the ice a few times, so precarious was each step, but in about 15 steps, made it to the door. And just as soon as we reached the door and I held the handle firmly for support, he bounded instantly away from me, joining his companion under a tree, a few metres away.

And that's when it hit me. It was in the abruptness of his departing, that I understood why he had 'dog-gedly' accompanied me. He had sensed my fear of falling. He k.n.e.w it. He just knew it. And he had helped me get safely across, lending me the weight of his body for support against my shaky leg, taking each step with me all the way till I got to a point of safety, where I was breathing easy again. He k.n.e.w it. And to this day, it takes my breath away and leaves my eyes moist.

How much I had been loved by this little pup? How much I had feared him, as the more spirited among the 3 dogs? How much he had taught me about selfless giving in the matter of 15 steps, and that one single action of walking away at just the right time? I may not have understood his intent, if he had not left me, that abruptly, at the precise moment my hand reached out for the door handle. How wordlessly, he had explained it all to me, without even trying? I went inside, completely overwhelmed, my life completely overturned in that one single moment, and cried fresh tears. It was a release of all that pent up tension, and experience of that pure, pure love of the Universe.

So this # 600 is an ode to this little beautiful golden collie, who has given me one of the most precious memories I will have with an animal. And hopefully, a little ounce of inspiration for all of us, as we plough on with the January of a new year, filled with the hope of better things, and of righting many wrongs. If we give as   lovingly, as this little dog did, both to ourselves and the people in our lives, and to the Universe at large, we might just have a year worth reckoning!

A lot of heart!

We spent an hour of this morning at the nursing home. Ever since we returned from our India trip last year, this is the first month we have made the visit back. The reasons are quite frivolous of course, and I am only sorry that we lost all those months of opportunity to spread a little cheer to some of the residents there. Even this morning, some lazy feelings kept surfacing every few minutes, but I am glad some greater resolve just pushed it all aside, and we were out the door by 9:45 AM.

The activity today was that of making a very festive looking pop-up New Year card. I looked around the room for MaryAnne, my regular resident, but she was nowhere in sight. So we picked out our supplies and headed to the nearest table. There were 2 old ladies sitting opposite each other and they were friends, who liked sitting at the same table.

The initial moments of being at a table are usually a little awkward, unless you have formed some rapport with them beforehand. Because otherwise, there is a bit of hesitation in how to approach them, what to say, without sounding patronising, when not to overdo a particular something etc etc. I always feel the weight of those awkward moments, so sometimes its just easier to sport a simple smile and stay silent, while allowing my mind to settle a bit. Most of the time though, any opening line gets a welcome response and a sweet smile from all of them. These are people who welcome this change of scene in their life, and are grateful, in this beautiful dignified way, of your making the time to come there and be with them, and in turn are very generous with their affection and their smiles. Sometimes, I think they're doing us the bigger service, by the natural way in which they put people like me at ease.

Now Winkie doesn't talk much on his own, and Thambi was in his silent mood and R wasn't around just then, so I just launched right in and asked them if they'd like a New Year card made. Rosemarie, on the left smiled her response. As did her friend opposite her. I gave Winkie some instructions and started doing Thambi's, while he slowly started to get more interested. And thus we went on in that manner, and over the industry of action with a purpose, some of the ice broke, as they wanted to know how old Thambi was and how many children I had, and Rosemarie shared that she was a great-grandmother to 22 great grandkids. Woohoo! What a number! In all her encouragement, I began to open up too, and a lot of that initial awkwardness worked itself out. I patted her arm from time to time, because that's something that's always heard, and always understood.

But I think the real love affair for her was with Winkie. She kept cooing encouragingly to him as he ploughed on patiently with the card, making it pop-up in just the right place, decorating his heart in interesting ways, adding flowers and petals and leaves, and a greeting on the cover and lots of nice words inside, addressing it to her name. At first he wasn't sure what to write inside, and asked me. You could fill it up with the words that you want to convey as a wish for her New Year, I said. But he didn't just take that at face value. He paused and thought to himself and started writing. And if I remember right, he wished that she stay well always and always have good company. I was really touched that he really thought about her life in that nursing home, and choose the words that would have some meaning for her. It was amazing. And more than me, she was prouder. Babbling happily over and over again, about his impeccable handwriting to her friends at the table, telling me over and over again what a good boy he was.

Just for that, I am really glad we went today. No doubt, someone else may have made her a very nice card and passed on some good wishes, but I am glad it was these particular words that she received. And that 2 generations, separated by 2 generations in between, had a chance to interact and share some kindness and lots of smiles. Everytime I am there, I come away with this sad sort of ache in my heart. Because old people need to be around young people. And young people need to be around old people. (And oh, please God, let me remember this when You call upon me to do my duty!). Energy and wisdom need to feed off of each other. Frailty and suppleness need to have that chance to appreciate one another. Despair needs to be wiped out with the exuberance and innocence of youth, and growing pains can be comforted best  by the experience of the old. Its the natural law of life. And I don't know and have no right to judge the varying life situations that forces these old people to come and live together away from their families and their homes. Maybe, many of them are happier doing it, but mostly all I sense is this sadness. Disenchanment. Bitterness even. That makes it hard to make conversation with them sometimes. How can you ask them how they've been, if everyday sort of morphs unintelligibly into the next, with no real variation? If even the simplest of tasks is a struggle? How can you ask about their families and children, if it means making them remember some awful memories? How long can you stay away from the 'real' conversation, and come away not having connected at all? How can you say 'see you next month' at the end, when their time in this earth may have come to an end by then?

Sometimes, the questions seem endless and agonising. And I don't know what to do. So I just smile my most natural smile and look into their eyes, every chance I get, so they can at least sense that I am happy to be there, right now, even if I haven't figured out a whole lot else. And sometimes, its just worth it, when right at the end, as we are about to leave and we are waving our goodbyes, Rosemarie, stops me to tell me something. She holds her right hand over her heart, looks into my eyes, a very kind twinkle in them saying....he has a lot of heart, that boy. And she turns her head to watch Winkie affectionately, right until we pass out of her sight. Yes. A lot of heart. That's exactly what we all need!

Morning joy...

Do you remember your very first waking recollection from your babyhood? The stir of that first memory which has imprinted on your brain, back from those days when everything else is woozy and you just have to take your parents' word on the kind of baby you used to be...

I remember mine. And it is a memory of milk. That first cup of morning milk. Or to be more precise, that first bottle. I must have been around 3 with a head full of dark unruly curls, and yes, I was still on the bottle and as memory goes, blissfully so. We lived in this tiny tiii...iiiny 1 room flat, where it was just the living room and a tiny kitchen off to the inside. And it was on the upper floor of a big house, which had been sublet to us. The rest of the rooms and the rest of the house belonged to the homeowner and her large family.

I remember waking up one morning, and making a sound of communication to my mother in the kitchen. Asking for my milk. If I remember right, all I really said was paal...out loud like that, in just that single word. And my mother signaled that she was making it. I remember how I was lying down, on my back, knees up, feet on the floor, with one leg swung over the other, probably my arms crossed under my head, waiting....waiting....for that blessed feeling of warmth to go down my throat. That day, the wait was extending. Maybe the milk was too hot and she was trying to cool it down. Maybe it was taking a while to boil over in the first place. Maybe, she was attending to others things too, in between. I don't know. All I remember is that torture of waiting, and terrible impatience to get it in my hands and into my mouth. I may have even murmured my disapproval when it finally did. But it was soon dissolved in the feel of the warm liquid, creamy, sweet and flowing in a steady suckle into my mouth. That is my earliest memory of heaven.

And today, I see it happening right before my very eyes, every single morning. Thambi takes after me completely in enjoying this little pleasure to the max. He will walk his way down the stairs every morning, each footstep a thump thump, signaling his descent. Some days, he is full of cheer and smiles, popping his head  into the kitchen saying boo! Other days, he is groggy, grumpy and stretching himself this way and that to work the tiredness out. On those days, I will hear just that monosyllable....paal!, with a bit of a whine preceding it and following it. On the good days, he will hug my leg and say...Can I have paal Amma?


Good day or bad day, I always always give him the white glove treatment and ask His Royal Highness to go take his perch on his throne. I know the 'need' of that morning joy, you see. And he will always sit in this one precise chair in the living room. It won't be on the sofa, it won't be on the dining chair, it won't even be on the chair next to it. It just has to be this chair. I'll tell you why I think why, in just a bit. And he will wait. Patiently. With a ear cocked to all the sounds coming from the kitchen. He knows the sound of the dishwasher coming open, as I hunt for his cup; the sound of the fridge door as I take out the milk; the sound of the beeps on the microwave dial, as I punch in 4-8, then 'Start'. In the meantime, I would have busied myself with something else that caught my attention. 48 seconds later, the beep will come on signalling that it is done. Some days I get to the door with alacrity, eager to service my little master, with that perfect touch of perfection and timing. Some days, nay, many days, I get sidetracked with another chore. And that's when he reminds me. Not right away. He will still wait patiently, for about 10 seconds, before he decides that a reminder is called for, for his errant mother. He will stand up on that chair, and from that vantage point, he can see both me as I stand over the sink and the microwave, and now you know why it is that chair and not another. It took me a few days to figure it out for myself, this mathematical calculation on his part. :)

On the bad days, he will whine some more in reminder. And I will get to it, pronto pronto. On the good days, he will be lucid with words....Ammaaaaa, paaaaaal! The 'Ammaaaa'....a sound of fond impatience. And when I reach him with the blessed cup (it is cup, and not bottle thank you!), he will lecture me, on how I have to do it right after the beep and not a moment later. When I tell you to give me paal, you have to give me paal, okay?....his eyebrows raised, a note of firm discipline in his voice. Yes Kanna. I understand. Only. too. well. :)

Every morning, as this cup of milk exchanges hands, the energy of that early memory from some 30 odd years ago, fuels it. And isn't he lucky that he will not have to summon a lot of brain cells to reconstruct the fragments of this early joy, this pleasure of the morning. That he has all these words here, to do that for him, filling in pieces, adding colour, maybe even a quiet enchantment to this act of security, of assurance, that he is loved, and all is well this morning....

New Year's resolve, and some tidbits from the old year...

When the new year began, I had Winkie sit down and reflect on the year past and write down some of those reflections. He listed out per month, as best as he could remember, all the things that happened that were significant. Then he wrote about what he had learnt. And then he wrote about his resolution for the coming year.

Now written out like that, the idea sounds fancy. But in effect, he just ended up writing about whose birthday it was in each month. One one line on that note, and that was that. I had to laugh, for he is just so eternally lazy when it comes to expressing his thoughts. I resort to a lot of writing endeavors with him, simply because I cannot get him to open his mouth to speak about an emotion or a thought that easily. At least when you write, words can tumble out, so I can make sense of them.

Anyways, coming back to the point, he learnt that the new year always starts out fun and that Swami is always in him. That first was a nice revealing thought. The second part...mmm....not so much. Because it was the very same thing I had said to him as an example, to illustrate my point of what could be a resolution. That he could promise not to walk off in a huff everytime I start my lecturing. :) Lazy fellow picked up that same line and made it his resolution. Oh well, I plan on holding him to it, as revenge! :D

But looking back upon his year a bit....I would say that its been a challenging one for him. Especially the second half. Remember that friend from first grade who turned into a bit of a bully? Well, even though he ended up not being in the same class as him in 2nd grade, he still caught up with Winkie during recess. And all the politics began to play out there. Now trying to write an account of this is a confusing thing for me, because Winkie has this very annoying love-hate relationship with this fellow. He likes him when he is good and plays nice, and he is upset by him to the extreme, when he plays it rough. And that happens with a very regular frequency. So, on any particular day, it was extremely hard for me to figure out if he was really being troubled by this boy, or was it just a case of two boys having a bad day of play. But e.v.e.r.y single day, I would end up hearing about him on some plaintive note. A did this, he did that, he didn't let me play with my other friends, he chases me even when I tell him not to, he tells on me for things I didn't do, he makes fun of me with other kids, and then one fine day....he choked me by catching my throat real tight.


For 6 patient months, we talked about it everyday at home, me trying to understand what exactly Winkie's feelings were, and Winkie trying out different strategies to get this boy off his case. From trying to devise a fair play method, where he played with him one recess and with his other friend the next, to ignoring him completely when he was being mean, to writing notes for a box in his classroom, for his teacher to read and take note of, to standing up for himself with this boy who is twice his height and weight, we tried it all together.  But that last misdemeanor was really the final straw. For the next day, Winkie flatly refused to go to school and I could sense a bit of terror in him. He cried and cried and cried, and that quite worked me up. I called up his teacher, and she promised me that this boy would be detained from recess and dealt with, while Winkie could safely play with his friends. For a few days, that boy didn't show up for recess at all, I believe, and then there were many snow days when everyone stayed in. And then of course, the Christmas break happened. Yesterday, he was back at school. And as it turns out, he played with Big A again during recess. I asked him why, and he said that he has learnt his lesson and is being nice to me. He knows how to be good now. So today I played with him, and tomorrow I will play with my other friend. Its fair right, Amma?


Yes, it certainly sounds fair, though a part of me is angry as to what hold this child has over Winkie that he can't cut loose fully. Why can't Winkie just let this boy be and play with the rest of his friends and avoid any future trouble? But I guess, everyone can be given another chance. I just hope this child is worthy of it. Whatever it is, its all in good learning for Winkie I guess, for the world ahead, and to test his own strengths and to know that he is never really alone. Even when he is sitting in a playground full of kids whom he can't play with because Big A won't let him, he is still not alone. Of that I assured him. How could he be, when the wind still blew and the sun still shone, and pleasant voices rung in the air? That is your God, I told him, and as long as you have that, you have everything.

Secrets of happiness...

Secrets to happiness, as learnt in the space of a year, which has now receded into the background, but the effect of which will always be felt....

1. Stay in the moment.
As much as you can. Yes, an oft heard cliche, but there is nothing better than it. To stay in the moment. To stay where your body is, and not leave it far behind when your thoughts carry you someplace else...far away.

2. Love and respect. 
Treat everyone with it. If the love is not possible, treat them with respect. If even that is not possible, then treat yourself with respect and opt for silence. Silence is any day better than opening the mouth and letting the words tumble out, uncontrolledly. If silence is not an option, then even in the words that ensue, go back to rule # 1, where even the words have love and respect.

3. Pause before reacting.

It doesn't take that much effort, and everything doesn't have to be a knee-jerk reaction to something else. Act, don't react.

4. Tell the truth.
It's the most uncomplicated way to live. Tell it as much as you can without hurting someone. Don't even tell the little lies, the white lies. Everything becomes a cross to bear at some point. And if you cannot tell the truth in any situation, keep silent and smile. Look in their eyes when you do.

5. Eat well.
Put some thought into every meal. Keep it simple some days, work hard at it on others. Junk it up every once in a while. But junk it down too, quite a bit. Whatever you do, however you do it, stay focussed on the exquisite sensations of the present.

6. Work-out.
...by way of a little something everyday. Anything. Even if it means stretching. It means you have spent time with your body, which is what we work so hard in life to protect anyways. So work at keeping it lean. Lean on the strength of your muscle every once a while, instead of just your mind. Push your heart just a little past its edge. Tease it. And then reward it.

7. Keep your place clean.
...and swept and mopped and fragranced. The power of antiseptic happiness cannot be discounted!

8. Get organised.
And don't postpone it to tomorrow. Even if it is just for 5 minutes a day, do a little rearranging. It shifts the energy stagnating around that place and moves it around, with a swish and a swirl. And find a place for everything, and if it doesn't have one, then maybe you don't need it in your life. Don't think so hard about getting rid of it. Just do it. It takes years off of you.

9. Click it all.
Look at your life through the eye of a lens. It is exactly that cool 3rd person perspective that the doctor ordered. It makes you step back to view, and thus enjoy the view more.

10. Hug.
Just for the pleasure of it. Make it a real hug. Not the lukewarm, air still in between kind. But the squeezy, snug type. And pat their back in this comforting way. You may not know every struggle they undergo, but an anonymous pat like that gives more than most things. And just rest your head on a shoulder. Little or big. And feel life through their pulse.