We are like the passing clouds - we bring rain, we bring cheer, we change shapes to match our moods, we keep the heat out. Vaanmughil (Classical Tamil word for Clouds in the Sky) is the journal of our travels and travails.
Kevin Garibo hasn't known life outside a hospital. Born three months ago with respiratory issues, he needed a procedure to breathe on his own. Nurses prod at him, medical machines hum around him and tubes are more present than teddy bears.
But in the arms of Chris Haack, who strokes his cheek and speaks in a soft whisper while rocking him in a chair, little Kevin is one blissed-out baby.
Haack, a retired nurse from Roswell, Georgia, is a trained volunteer with "Baby Buddies," a program in the neonatal intensive care unit at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta at Egleston. As nurses race around administering medical care, she can comfort the tiny patients and stand in for parents who can't be there all the time to give the positive attention -- not the attention associated with pain or discomfort -- that is key to a baby's development and integral in forming trust.
"They need to be touched, they need to be loved, and that face -- that's why I do it," Haack says, peering down with a smile at Kevin, whose eyes are locked on hers. "I get more out of it than I probably give."
But how can I do it? This is so difficult. It is possible for them, but not for me. Nice to know but... but... but... I have my own life and its problems, you know? Where is the time for all this?
Ever heard these refrains coming from your own mouth?
Kaniamma has now started her basic lessons - she is now learning to write Tamil alphabets, English alphabets and the numerals. And, while she was practising her writing, I found this heart warming news about a 16 year old boy becoming a teacher for fellow children. http://gimundo.com/news/article/babar-ali-16-creates-free-school-for-poor-villagers/ Now, that's some effort in the march towards literacy.
Yesterday, November 14, was yet another Children's day in India. Since 1963, the birthday of India's first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru has been celebrated in India as Children's day - ostensibly as a celebration of childhood. For a change, teachers and parents perform cultural programs for the kids, prizes are up for grabs for children in several competitions, chocolates and treats to munch on, various functions mark the occasions, some kids work at NGOs and so on. A day filled with enough excitement, any way you look at it.
Yesterday, November 14 was also the day we got a new maid at home, Kaniamma. Depending on how you pronounce her name - கனி (Kani) means a Fruit or கன்னி (கன்னி) means a Virgin. அம்மா (Amma) means Mother but it is also used endearingly to call a woman of any age. Wearing a salwar kameez in the dark colour of grapes, her thin hair tied up in a tight ponytail and pinned up with a red plastic clip, the smooth skin on her cheeks belying her youthful innocence, கனி or கன்னி, whatever she may be, came to our home last noon, with just the clothes on her back.
Kani was working at a Doctor's home at Anna Nagar, about 20 Km from where I live. In just couple of hours, she told me thrice about having left her new Diwali dress back at that home. She had been told by her father that her mother was unwell and that she was going home to see her. She didn't pack her things as she had spare clothes in her home. When she came out, she was told that she was going to work in a different home, for hopefully a better pay. She was more worried about what she was going to wear the next day.
Her father accompanied her to our home to make sure she would be alright. He counselled her, "Be good, don't steal, don't tell lies, be sharp, learn keenly and don't be afraid. Take care of this place like your home." Then he turned to me and said, "Please take care of her. She is very young but will learn if you teach her anything." And, not so much as a warm hug or a bye, the poor father left her behind.
Kani helped with me the chores in the kitchen. Red ants have invaded my kitchen. I set about clearing the shelves, wiping them clean, putting Lakshman Rekha - the deadly ant killer chalk, fumigating the shelves with napthalene balls using my vacuum cleaner. She held on to the stool and watched all the fuss. She watched me cut vegetables for the biryani. She kept asking for another knife so she could also get down to it. I didn't have the heart to get her started. So, I told her that the other knives were a tad blunt. She washed a few dishes, ate her dinner, cleaned the kitchen counter and went to bed.
She was a chatty kid though - she is from a village near Cheyyar, Sakthi's home town. The youngest of 3 children, her parents are sharecroppers. Her father used to be a goatherd and now works on some fields with her older brother. Her mother stays home. Her sister is married with 2 kids and she came to Chennai at the age of 5 along with her sister. She remembers having studied up to the 5th grade but has no idea when she was born or her date of birth. She doesn't even remember which month she was born. When I asked her how old she was, she promptly answered, "16." According to the Child Labour Act in India, no child may be gainfully employed till she/he turns 14. Honestly, there was no way to tell if she was really 16 or was coached to say so. She looked like in her teens alright, but I could only hope I am not breaking any laws. Law or no law, it breaks my heart to see a child working at my home.
But then, what are her choices? She can go back home and work in the fields with her father. Or go to some other home and work just as hard. Or, should I just send her to school in an act of charity – will she begin again? She stopped going to school after her 5th coz she was scared of a 1-mile bus ride to the next town. Will she care to study now? Will her cash-starved parents let her stay in a school if at all? Or would I be imposing my will on the child? Perhaps, I could teach her while she is with me – although my earlier maid Little Flower (my maids have really original names!) showed no interest despite my effort. She got herself trained to be a great cook and excellent maid, if at all. She made herself employable at least. Would Kaniamma turn out to be like her? She has aged prematurely already. May be, the child in her will survive, nevertheless. I have my worries and she has hers, like her beautiful Diwali dress that she misses.
Diwali day - morning 4 AM. Amma is already up. She prepares for the traditional ganga snanam for the entire family. Whole black pepper, red chillies and betel leaves floating in hot gingelly oil, the traditional vethalai pakku (betel leaves, areca nut) along with bananas kept ready on a silver plate along side, nalangu (red coloured paste made from mixing lime used to paint on walls and turmeric) in a small bowl - all awaiting the sleepy heads at home.
Paati is also up next. One by one, all the children are kicked out of their beds. Easier done on a Diwali day because no child wants to miss being the first person in the block to start off bursting the fire crackers. Sets off a war between the siblings too - to have a bath! We sit on the manai (a wooden platform used as a seat) duly decorated with Amma's izhai kolam. Paati rubs the hot oil on our heads, patiently puts the nalangu around the ankles, pops the vethalai pakku in our mouths followed by a shove of the ceremonial banana piece, and hands over the new clothes after prostrations are duly done. Amma is meanwhile keeping peace with the fidgeting, quarreling siblings.
5 - 6AM - The TV program starts. Some famous carantic musician or the other starts off the Mangala geetham (auspicious music) on the nayanam. Amma is busy in the kitchen brewing piping hot coffee for all the adults. Appa picks up the newspaper and plonks in front of the TV. The kids run in and out, searching for crackers, all the while fighting, boasting about the new clothes or the special type of crackers that others don't have.
6 - 8AM - Some self-important movie star starts off the day's bombardment of cinema based programs. Amma begins preparations for the Diwali feast which consist of at least Paruppu, More Kuzhambu, Poosanikkai pulippu kootu (white pumpkin gravy), thakkali rasam (tomato rasam), vadai, thayir vadai, payasam, kai, appalam, vazhakkai varuval (banana chips), senaikizhangu varuval (yam chips). Everything has to be made fresh on that day only, the only item that comes out of the fridge is the yoghurt for the thayir vadai. On a two burner stove, milk is constantly on the boil for coffee for the family followed by the friends and other relatives that constantly stream in and the milk concoctions for the kids. Amma is busy chopping vegetables, grinding the gravies for the various dishes (in the days when modern equipment like mixers and grinders were banned by Paati's diktat, she had to do all these by hand on her ammikkal - the stone grinder), deftly managing the brewing of one dish, frying of an ingredient etc.
8 - 9 AM. We kids are hungry. "Amma, we woke up so early, we are hungry, give us the vadai, payasam right away." She can't. Everything has to be kept ready for the pooja and naivedyam, so there's no way we can lay our hands on any the festive goodies. Amma suspends the feast preparations and starts making dosas to keep us quiet.
9 - 10 AM. The latest movie to be released on Diwali day is announced and the bimbette who starred in it shares her insights on how she got this far in unbearable Tamil - the interview is mostly in English anyways, even that English is tortured and mangled. But then, she is a starlet and the entire family gathers around the idiot box - save Amma. She is back at her chores. Appa gets bored of watching TV for 3 hours, strolls out for his cigarette break and gathers with his friends to discuss the latest news in politics.
10 - 11.30 AM. Solomon Pappiah is the naduvar (judge) of yet another pattimandram (debate), the staple diet of any festive day TV programming. Today's topic is "Who is to blame for problems afflicting women? Women or Men?" a refreshing variant from the Dussehra programming just 20 days earlier, "Who creates more problems in the society, Women or Men?" We have the usual round of debators, an equal number of men and women who are known for their verbal wizardry and humour-laced duels. They crack silly jokes on their spouses, father-in-laws and neighbours, buttress their arguments with one-liners and lyrics from movies and throw barbs at the opposing teams. Meanwhile, Amma is done preparing for the gravies and starts the mixer to grind them. In chorus, all the addicts in the living room yell, "Amma, can't you wait for the commercial break? We can't hear anything." Amma switches off the Mixer and waits indulgently. It's a different matter that during the commercial break, hell breaks lose to find the next most interesting program on a competing TV network.
11.30 AM - 2 PM. The TV set screams, "Thiraikku vanthu sila maathangale aana, super hit thiraippadam." Literally, it means, a latest release, super hit movie but read between the lines - it refers to the movie that nobody ever cared to buy tickets for coz it was so darn lousy in the first place but is still being foisted on an unsuspecting audience on Diwali day by the producer who must have paid the TV network to get it off his hands. Meanwhile, Amma is pleading one child after the other, "Please go and give some of these Diwali batchanam (sweets and savories) to the neighbours." None of us budge, "No Amma, this scene is very important, there is going to be great song in the next 2 minutes, look at him fight," or something to that effect. Amma goes on the distribution rounds herself. She also manages the visitors who stop by incessantly. She also occasionally yells out for us to eat our food, but our eyes are fixed on the movie program.
1.30 PM - Just when she has finished work and is ready to take a break, the hunger clamour begins again. Amma asks for 5 more minutes. She wants everybody to have hot vadas, the cold ones are dunked into the dahi vada. Vazhai ilai (banana leaves) laid out, Amma brings out the dishes one by one and serves them to everybody. Tummies full and satiated, everybody rushes to wash hands and plonk in front of the TV. Amma clears up the mess and sits down for her first morsel of food since morning.
Movie over, kids are ready to go out and stake the neighbourhood to burst more crackers or play with friends while Appa is tired and ready to take a nap. Amma is busy cleaning the pots and pans. By 3PM, she starts asking Appa to take her to homes of important relatives to hand over the Diwali sweets, get blessings from the family elders etc. She drapes her Diwali sari and a quick face wash later, is off on the journey to meet everybody. 2-3 hours later, she is back home, worrying about the kids and making dinner plans.
We kids have always had a great Diwali. It is always a great holiday, crackers on hand, sweets and savories to pile up the calories for the entire year, enough idiocy on the TV to keep us engaged, friends to play with - this couldn't be better. Amma? Well, Amma's Diwali is all about keeping us all happy. It is another day, in fact, it is a day she works harder than usual.
This Diwali, I reserve my wishes for all the mothers that slog in the kitchen and keep their families happy; the fire personnel who go to work as usual to douse the fires caused by reckless rockets that fall on thatched roofs; the security forces (police and armed forces included) who are vigilant and on their toes ensuring no miscreants take advantage of a festive mood and cause mayhem; the emergency staff at medical establishments who are on standby to take care of a burn here, a broken limb there or still taking care of other patients in their care; the bus & train drivers and pilots who miss being with their families to transport millions to their loved ones; and the scores of others who sacrifice their time for others to have a great day. All festivals are just like that. Somebody has to work so the others can enjoy. The least I can do is recognise this and pray silently for the toiling masses and wish well for them too.
For the last two days, I am plagued with just one thought in my head - Tat Tvam Asi. Oh well, it started innocuously - I was looking for books to buy at Cafe Turtle at Khan Market. Along one shelf, this was written in big bold type on one book and just caught my eye.
Tat Tvam Asi - I first heard of this Mahavakya (literally, it means "very important sentence" in Sanskrit) when I was probably in my 8th grade. Was part of a small history lesson on Adi Sankaracharya, Ramanuja and Madhvacharya. Didn't mean much then. But, today, I feel like I found a new meaning in life, a true revelation.
Let me explain. Tat Tvam Asi is a very important philosophical statement that has origins in Hindu literature. Originating in the Chandogya Upanishad as a father's words of wisdom to his arrogant know-it-all son, Tat Tvam Asi explains some core beliefs of Hinduism. In simple terms, Tat means - that, Tvam - You, Asi - are. "THAT THOU ART!" It is generally taken to mean that your soul or consciousness is wholly or partially the Ultimate Reality. Tat - refers to The Supreme One, or Brahman, the Ultimate Reality or God. Tvam - is the person, the soul, the consciousness, the physical presence.
Now, this sentence can be interpreted in 3 different ways to explain 3 different paths (or belief systems) in Hinduism. Dvaita, Visishtadvaita and Advaita.
Dvaita philosophy starts with Atat tvam asi - A-TAT (not Brahman) tvam (you) asi (art) - That thou are not. This clearly distinguishes between the Brahman and the souls and between souls. Thus it believes in "twoness" as in one set apart from another. The world around us, we as individuals and the Brahman are all distinct.
Visishtadvaita philosophy believes in "Almost twoness" as in with ultimate self-realisation, you become united with the Brahman while still retaining your identity, thus only becoming a part of the Brahman but not fully integrated.
Advaita philosophy believes in "Not twoness" as in - there are no two separate identities, the Brahman and the soul are one and the same. One does not become Brahman, rather, one already is and just needs to come to this realisation.
Confusing? In the beginning, it was to me as well. But slowly, the true purport of these statements dawned on me. I am an atheist. I don't have any firm belief in a Supreme Creator - I don't really care to know. Why then would "Tat Tvam Asi" mean anything at all to me? It does and here's why.
If I take "That Thou Art" literally, what it means is that I am that, that everything outside of this physical body and soul of mine. I am the person I see on the road, I am the dog that is whimpering, I am the coral reefs and the Amazon civilization under threat, I am the criminal inflicting pain and suffering on my brethren and I am the one fighting for peace and harmony in some of the world. If I am all that - is "Tat Tvam Asi" really a statement of compassion, love and equality of being? That too, not only within man kind but of all living beings. Does Tat Tvam Asi really stand for empathy, the ability to see yourself in the other and vice versa?
Whether you are a Hindu or a Christian, it really does not matter. Even Jesus said in Psalm 82, I say, "You are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you; nevertheless, you shall die like men, and fall like any price." (verses 6 & 7). Sounds a lot like Visishtadvaita to me. In Buddhism, Bodhi means enlightenment and anybody who has attained Nirvana (the state of awakening or enlightenment) becomes a Buddha. Tat Tvam Asi again?
Whether you see it as a God-fearing person or not, you can just say Tat Tvam Asi is all about universal brotherhood. When you see God is in you and if God is omnipresent, he is present in everything around you. If you don't believe in God, but just believe That Thou Art, it is merely your ability to see yourself in everything around you and see everything in you. For me, now it is Tatvam Asi (Tatvam - philosophy) and that is - We are part of the whole and the whole is just us - ALL OF US!
Couple of days ago, I saw a program on Discovery Travel & Living - Filthy rich and homeless. "Saw the program," is an overstatement. 5 minutes was about all I could take of that masterpiece of shit. Let me explain why. In times of reality shows fast replacing soap operas (which is a greater evil is just a matter or perspective), this program purports to be a social experiment putting filthy rich people on the streets for 3 days (or was it 10?) to feel the pain of the homeless and track their progress. Wow, what a noble thought!
So, these filthy rich (ho hum!) people rough it out on the streets and after 3 days, they get buddies to help them with the rest of their tenure on the sidewalks. The buddies happen to be ex-convicts, drug addicts and other unsavoury elements. That's about all I could take of this offensive nonsense.
Let's try to reason this out. There are these amazingly rich guys who get more publicity and empathy for giving up their millions (albeit for just a short period of time) to understand the lives of the homeless with the firm promise of being able to go back to their riches in 3 (or 10) days. That's really difficult is it? The real indigents have no idea of where the next meal comes from or if they will be adequately clothed to live out the winter clime in Britain. No real hope for education, for betterment of their own lot, no real skills and hence, no chance at employment, no light at the end of tunnel and every living, waking moment is hell. And, the rich pretenders get buddies to help them out to act like the homeless. Come on, spare me the drivel.
Reminded me of a childhood story of Birbal. Emperor Akbar threw a challenge if somebody could stand all night in a pool of cold water and if he/she did so, would be rewarded handsomely. A poor man did manage to do it. And, what kept him up through this arduous task? A light glowing in the distance from one of the palaces. Gave him the imaginary warmth to spare him the shivers. The realisation that as dawn breaks, he would see his reward that will help him break free from the shackles of poverty. See, what hope can do to any person?
I read somewhere that "The road that is built in hope is more pleasant to the traveler than the road built in despair, even though they both lead to the same destination." Hmm. So, why would it be difficult for filthy rich people to manage 10 days out in the cold with not just hope but the fool/fail-proof assurance of being able to go back to their rich comforts at the end of it all? And, in a perverse way, is this also the reason why the poor rarely manage to rise above their miseries? Couldn't the money spent on making a program like this be better used to provide critical life skills to the poor rather than play out a perverse charade for the amusement of the rich or the voyeuristic pleasure of the viewers? But then, it wouldn't make for an interesting dinner time viewing, would it? In the constant tussle between hard-nosed profitability and preachy socialism, is it any wonder what wins out?
Sujatha sort of knows what she wants to do and also doesn't. She is interested in food, art, music, languages, travel, politics, passionate about children and social work,and some more. She can't decide which one of these to pursue to excellence and so, ends up dabbling in all. Much like the different clouds in the sky, various shapes and forms, some standing calm and tranquil and some threatening to pour, some days not to be seen and some days, swallowing the entire sky, obscuring everything else - Sujatha has various moods, passions and means different things to different people. This blog stores some of her outpourings which she sometimes updates and sometimes not.
