Traveling to distant places is perhaps one of the most exciting things that could happen to me. I enjoy traveling and visiting places. It has always been my dream and I coveted a job that would include travel once in a while. But strange how motherhood changes everything. I have to travel to USA for work, and whenever I have this opportunity, I start feeling sick. Leaving Titiksha and going away for a trip is a nightmare now. I am going through that nightmare, living everyday and counting days. I am off to USA for nearly a month, and I just wonder when it will end.

On my way, there was a halt at Bangkok and I took the opportunity to visit the city. I visited the floating market and two Buddhist temples. People here are very superstitious; they believe in spirits and worship them before any auspicious event. There are small temples build in most of the houses or street corners, and people stop to pay homage to the spirits. The guide made me bow before one. She said it would be good for me. According to her, I am a lucky angel, because I have a red mole on my left forehead. I can accomplish whatever I wish in life. I was thrilled, because at home all my relatives think that the same mole is inauspicious for a girl. Not that it made me stop doing things and aiming whatever I aspired for in life. But perhaps most of the people back home consider a contented homely life far better than my life.

Back to Bangkok, it was a pretty city, clean and tidy, at least the parts I visited. They fold their hands in the same way we do namaste, and bow low and expect the same from you. There are big cars and good bus stops, with seating arrangements. Some of the buses resembled India, full of people and hurrying back and forth. The King is respected and revered. The guide said that the king's wife is not from a royal family and she works a lot for the common people. She has been successful in changing the king’s attitude towards the poor and the needy. They have opened a number of charitable organizations. There are huge photos of the king and the queen all over the city. They were yellow shirts on Monday, which is a way of offering their regards to the king. In Thai tradition, every day has a color, and Monday, the day King Bhumibol Adulyadej was born, is yellow. Oh, I forgot to mention, the new airport Suvarnabhumi, is really grand. It is huge and tastefully decorated.

I did not visit much in US this time. I had plans to visit New York, but my friend who stays there had to leave for London for an urgent official work and so I just relaxed and missed my daughter, hubby, Calcutta, and the good food. I visited the Malibu beach, which is close by, my colleagues, took me to dinner at a restaurant there.

I love the roads and the communication here. Though, without a car you are crippled. But Rental car is really cheap and if you are confident you can drive anywhere you want. When I travel by a car here, sometimes I forget that I am driving. It is so serene and everybody just mind their rules and are so decent. If you walk, they will wait for you to cross the road. This is the only point that I compare with India and I am saddened. Most of us simply do not follow the traffic rules. How I wished we were nearly as decent while driving, back in India.

I heard that California has a very sound economy. If it were an independent country, it would be the 10^th strongest economy in the world. Have you ever seen crop dusters? They are small planes that are used to fertilize the huge farmlands here. Farmers hire them because it is easy and economical. The planes fly low, their wheels almost touching the crop as they spray fertilizers or pesticides. I thought the process was amazing.

Americans have created a niche in making things simple. Life is so smooth and how I wish we could copy their development, instead of copying their fashion. Believe me, the children back at India are simply adorable, with the type of culture they learn from their elders. I love everything that is Indian. And I am waiting to come back home. It is simply that you compare things when you are in an alien land and with your judgment you try to analyse, which is better.

All said and done, I will be back home soon. I am waiting for the day.

Hi All,

Sorry for being out of iland for so long. I don't have any solid excuse for this absence. I thank you for stopping by and missing me. I will catch up with all of you soon. Thought of writing up something about Mr. Bhaat again. Hope you enjoy it.

Cheers

Mr. Bhaat is busy with loads of work. He is suddenly speaking less and dreaming a lot. And he always remembers to share his dreams with me.

He has dreamt separate incidences for the last few weeks. After sharing each of his dream he would ask me “Why do you think I dreamt this?” I would always answer, “I am not a dream expert.” I told him that and prayed that he continued to dream.

Dream 1

Mr Bhaat is a sober, quiet guy, with a good sense of humor, the kind of people who will make your stomach ache with his anecdotes, but would himself keep a somber face.

I doubt whether he has ever killed a mosquito, so I was amazed when he shared this particular dream with me.

He dreamt that he was busily crashing sherbet bottles of a street peddler. He was accompanied by a ragamuffin (this was the same man who sits nonchalantly on Durgapur Bridge in Kolkata with some plastic bags as his only possession). He had the guts to do this on the opposite of a police station. Suddenly a group of police came and wanted to arrest him. Mr. Bhaat would not accept their arrest and was only convinced when they promised to take him in an Innova. At the police station he was given a choice of 1 month jail or Rs. 50 fine. He obviously chose the later and was freed with a grand farewell. It seems all the policemen stood in a row and shouted in chorus “Assame (culprit in Bengali) is freed with a charge of 50 rs. And a Maruti 800 is waiting for him to take him home”. Hearing this Mr Bhaat was really angry and chose to pick up a cycle in favour of the Maruti 800. He went back home riding the bicycle fuming that they would offer an Innova to arrest a culprit but would offer a battered Maruti 800 when that same culprit is freed.

The next morning he narrated the entire incident to me. All the car poolers had a hearty laugh but one question remained, why on earth did he dream this.

One more thing, Mr. Bhaat specially mentioned that in the dream he threw bottles in the air and broke them with a steel rod and it was fun doing it. He said that he shared this with me, because he thought that in the real world only I have the strength to break bottles in such a way if I am angry enough. I still don’t know whether it was a compliment or a sarcasm. As usual when I don’t understand the tone, I thank them and I thanked Mr. Bhaat too, for sharing this great idea.

I assure you I will try my best control the urge of breaking bottles when I am angry.

Dream 2

Mr Bhaat dreamt that our present office is in financial trouble. And the boss has decided to interview everyone with specific questions. Those who fail will be chucked out. Mr Bhaat appeared for the interview in great trepidation. Boss simply asked him, so Bhaat what is the different between Pascal and Rascal? Pascal is a programming language, and Rascal I am sure you know. Mr Bhaat replied undazed, the difference is perhaps similar to the difference between TCP and Jilepi. TCP is a protocol in networking terminology and Jilepi is a sweet, also known as Jalebi.

I have never heard anyone dream such ridiculous dreams in all my life.

Incidentally on the same night I dreamt that my boss called me and asked me to take the additional work load of 4 of my colleagues other than my present responsibilities.

We are not worried about our job though, I think it is just a coincidence or I am getting infected by Mr Bhat.

Dream 3

Mr Bhat dreamt that he has gone to the office head quarters at US. The CEO of the company invited him for lunch. Together they set off in a futon. The CEO wanted to visit a funeral before their lunch. As they entered the church, the line was long and they had to stand for quite sometime. The CEO cautioned Mr Bhat to walk like Hamlet, because that is the tradition. Mr Bhat was baffled; he did not know how Hamlet walked. One aide from the church came and rebuked Mr Bhat because he was walking normally. Mr Bhat then folded his arms before him, walked on his toes, and looked at the aide for approval. The aide was satisfied and disappeared. When they finally came to the coffin, Mr Bhat realized that the body was none other than Mr Ghosh’s, his neighbour whom he despised bitterly. He smiled wickedly and placed a red rose on Mr Ghosh’s dead body.

I am a romantic by heart and I like sweet romantic attitudes. Not mushy ones, which make you sit at your lover’s feet and act like a slave. I like being loved in the quiet assured way that tells you, you are important and you are needed.

I wonder how important Valentine’s Day is. It was not celebrated with so much hype a decade ago, when my husband and I were dating. Besides both of us acknowledge that love is celebrated for the entire life and not for a day. So Valentine’s day or not, I love my husband more intensely with every passing day. Perhaps he does the same. I have never asked him. He is not the kind of man who would profess his love from rooftops. I like him the way he is.

Today morning we asked a senior person in our office about his plans for the day. He promptly replied I have unending test cases that needs to be executed. I am going to be busy until 7 pm. When asked about his plans with his wife, he was innocently surprised. And then he understood. “Aw today is Valentine’s day. Nothing special, Valentine’s day is concerned with Godly love, not the erotic love that people celebrate today. I have no special plans. For me Valentine’s day holds no meaning. It is just another day, but I am sad that people are interpreting the sacrifice of Saint Valentine’s in such a way.” People laughed and some said him unromantic at his back. I was neutral.

I remember a few years back, before my marriage I had sent a Happy Valentine’s Day mail to all my friends. A couple of distant friends wrote back in a mushy mushy tone, thanking me profusely and accepting my offer. What offer I never asked them? I understood they had taken my message in a completely different way. A friendly message was grossly misinterpreted.

Again one of my colleague was seriously hunting for a girl whom he could date on Valentine’s day. He is seriously down, because he is not successful in his search. He has to go alone with his other friends and their dates at a nightclub. He is still hoping that he might catch somebody over there.

Another colleague has turned down the offer of an uncommitted and pretty girl for a date today. I asked him, why he is not interested. He said the whole idea of a special date on Valentine’s Day stinks. He would consider revisiting the proposal on another day, of course if the girl is still interested.

Another colleague at US lost his wife day before yesterday. They have two small daughters. He has sent a mail with their photos. I was moved when he declared that he lost his first love and soul mate just before Valentine’s Day.

My husband organized a special event yesterday. I was pleasantly surprised to see a bouquet of fresh flowers and a 4-course dinner organized neatly on the dining table. He had taken the pain to go home early and organize everything just to surprise me. Because I wouldn’t celebrate anything special today he had taken the pain to celebrate our love yesterday night. Now I think this is love.

I wish all of you a Happy Valentine’s Day. Cherish your love with your family and friends for your lifetime.

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

A few days back I was forced to watch a telefilm at a relative’s place. The theme was as usual a lady being exploited by her husband and mother-in-law. It was a bit different in the sense that all they wanted was a son from the girl. But repeated attempts resulted in the birth of two daughters. I was amazed at the patience of the girl in waiting and praying for things to change. At last, another pregnancy due to a rape by her husband made her leave the house with her daughters. She even terminated her pregnancy before leaving.  

My husband was shocked after watching the film. I was not, I knew things are not easy for women. 

Just the other day I was shocked by the principal’s comment, when we wanted to admit Titiksha in a famous school. After questioning my husband and satisfied with his position and income he questioned me whether I work. I said yes and then he asked me the office timings. As usual, he asked about the caregivers of Titiksha in my absence. I confirmed that my parents take care of her. He bluntly commented that “Very Good. Both Husband and wife working and old parents are left with the burden of the child. They are still not free to enjoy their life”. While my parents happily take care of my daughter, I mentally agreed to his comment as a truth. But the next comment made me gasp. “You are a mother and it is your duty to take care of your child. Career cannot be more important than rearing up your daughter”. This is a debatable issue. I know the guilt pangs and the turmoil I continuously face. Sometimes I yearn to go back home and enjoy my time with Titiksha. But after weighing the issue I had decided long back to enjoy both: my motherhood and my career. I have always given my career a lesser consideration. It is something that I enjoy doing.  

But the issue here is not the debate of whether a mother should work, but the attitude of the principal. As a representative of the school, he is against the idea of working mothers. Will his school give the same respect to the girl students that they deserve? I desperately wanted to know from him, that why does a girl child need education? A cold stare from my husband made me stop. I also wanted to know whether they would consider supporting a child’s education if they do not have a father and their mothers do not earn a living. Why is it necessary for a woman to sacrifice her career for the sake of the family or the child? What about the female teachers in his school, why are they are appointed? These are pertinent questions and I would have gladly discussed these issues with the principal and knew more about his ideologies. It was important, because as a parent I would perhaps entrust them with my daughter’s responsibility. I want her to grow up and manage her career and family if she wants to do both. 

We went to attend an invitation last week. The lady of the house asked me whether I had any brother, I said "no we are two sisters." She asked me blatantly, who will take care of your parents, then? I said, "my sister and me are always ready to share their responsibilities but till this point it is our parents who are still taking good care of us." She also told me that my first one is a daughter and if I opt for a second issue then it is a great risk if it is again a daughter. People generally don’t try for a third one these days. She also has a daughter and I think she must be really worried about this. Later on I learned that the lady is also a teacher in a primary school. I wonder what her students are learning. 

Another incident that I must share. I had been to my niece’s school to fetch her home. A well-meaning lady suggested a suitable spot where I could view the children when they come out of their classes. The lady kept chattering and I found out that she was the mother of my niece’s classmate. At that moment, another lady came and stood beside us. She was carrying a sweet child on her lap. The first lady pointed out “this is her smaller daughter. Her elder daughter also reads here. I feel sorry for her.” I was particularly inquisitive as to why she felt sorry for her. She said, “Imagine her second issue is also a daughter and what a shame she must be facing in her in laws place. A complete waste of time and money.” I was shocked. I pray that her daughter doesn’t carry the same principles as her mother. My poor niece, I do hope she has some good classmates who come to school to study and increase their knowledge to progress well in life. 

While traveling to Bangalore with my daughter a copassenger continuously questioned my daughter about her father. I don’t know why she was so inquisitive whether at all we had a male member in our family. She was surprised when she learned that we two were visiting Bangalore for the first time. This time she directly asked me, where does your husband stay? I said of course at his house giving her enough room for suspicion.

People say that women are tortured. They are made to sacrifice and bow down. I have always felt that in most of the cases you cannot be forced to do something against your will. If you have the strength, you can make your choices. Of course, I know how difficult it is for most to fight back. Out of three, two persons I mentioned above were female. I am sure they had enough freedom to change their viewpoint.

I generally opt for the office car pool. It is easier and peaceful. And another and the most important reason is the co travelers. What a Group and what discussions! A full one hour time pass and memories to relate to.

One such person in the group is named as Mr. Bhaat. (Bhaat in Bengali is a word used for any discussion that is nonsensical but intelligent. It will make people laugh). I would like to share with you the escapades of this person in his childhood.

Mr Bhaat used to stay in a famous hostel. The standard of education of the school is well known and revered. Every product of that school is by default a good student and known to achieve heights in their career. But the school and the hostel had its restrictions and the poor boys wanted to exercise their independence during their holidays.

On one such occasion, Mr Bhaat and his friend were passing through an unknown neighbourhood in search of a book store, and chanced upon a marriage ceremony. The friend looked mournfully at the ceremonial house and doled about the good food they might be serving. “Bhaat, it’s been ages since our taste buds had any acquaintance to good food. What do you think?”Mr. Bhaat, replied non chalantly, “Do you want to have your dinner in that house?’

“That house?” Pointed the friend, “but how will we enter there?”

Mr Bhaat went a few steps forward and memorized the name written on the name plate of the next house. He then innocently entered the ceremonial house with his friend.

“Bhaat, what will you do if anybody asks who we are?”

“Wait and watch, assured Bhaat.”

The tables were already occupied with people enjoying the wide array of sumptuous food. The air was heavily laden with the intoxicating smell of food. While the desserts were being served an aged man came before the two young fugitives and asked them to take their seats, but on second thoughts he also asked “Though your faces look familiar I cannot identify your parents.”

Mr Bhaat quickly retorted, “Mr. Bhattachrayya is our jethu. He asked us to go and have our dinner. This is my friend.”
“Oh, ho, now I recollect, so you have grown up quite a bit, and when will your jethu come?”

“He has some guests and will be coming soon.”

“Help yourself son,” and turning to the friend, “I am glad you came.” He then called the main server, pointed towards the two boys, and instructed him to give the two boys special attention.

Mr Bhaat and his friend could not have dinner at their home that day. Mr Bhaat’s mother knowing her son, had asked him, “where did you go this time?

I am sure you will be beaten up one day for your adventurous streak.”

Mr Bhaat once had only enough money for his bus fare. He was coveting for ram babu’s phuchka and did not dare to ask his mother for some money. Just the other day he had seriously hurt the neighbour’s cat with his air gun. He still did not know what was all the commotion about. The cat chose his bedside window for all his quarrels and he just wanted to frighten the cat. He never knew that an air gun can hurt that fat and ugly creature. Rama maasi had cried piteously before his mother and highlighted her love for the cat. And how could Bhaatu do such a thing to her cat, “Bhaatu is really going out of your reach didi. I am cautioning you to take care and discipline him.” Mr Bhaat’s mother was furious and send him to her sister’s house. Mr Bhaat was elated.

But the main point is his new plot to escape the bus fare. The conductor asked him thrice to pay for the ticket and thrice he confirmed that his mother is going to pay. Looking at his childish face, the conductor never doubted that his mother was sitting somewhere in the ladies seat and went away. However when his destination came, the conductor now sensed some foul play.

“Khoka where is your ticket and where is your mother?”

“Ma, ma, ma, my mother?” Mr Bhaat started shouting, “my mother has got down before, what will I do?” Saying this he started crying.

The conductor was now dumbfounded, “don’t worry khokha, do you have money with you?”

“No, nothing.” Saying this Mr Bhaat started howling.

The conductor then gave him a 5 rupee coin and asked him to cross the street and take the bus with the same route number as this. Till this day, Mr. Bhaat makes other people laugh till they cry, with this story, while he sits with a serious and innocent face.

Mr Bhaat has not changed. An engineering degree and a good job has added spark to his calm and relaxed techniques of fooling people.

Piya and Piyush were happily married and settled. They were young, had a wonderful apartment, had a lovely baby, and had supportive parents. They were the role models for so many others. People envied them, for their friendly spirit and their fat paycheck.

Do you want to know more? Hang on.

Let's enter Piya’s mind for the time being.

Another Monday Morning: Piya gets up in the morning, and the first thought that strikes her is, Oh No, another monday, another week to drag on, and those loads of deliveries at office. I need to make five credit card payments this week. Why did I ever think of taking more than two credit cards? And God! just think of Piyush, he always ends up having no money. He is always borrowing from me. I am treated like a porter, loads of weight to carry all day long. Why did I ever marry Piyush. He is the most irresponsible man I have ever seen in my life.

All day long Piya continued cursing Piyush. This was a day when she relived her memories. How much she loved Piyush she thought: those carefree days, when they were still studying. She used to adore Piyush. Piyush loved her in his own way. He was not predictable, he displayed his emotions selectively. He had strong family ties and kept on nagging Piya whether she could adjust with her immediate and extended family. Piya used to get frustrated with his nagging. Piyush also had asked for a minimum of five years before he could even think of marrying. Again not a positive point for Piya. They were of the same age, and waiting for five long years would mean she would eventually marry in her late twenties. Piya knew she would wait and had to convince her parents. She was confident that they would surely understand. Days passed, Piyush's behaviour clouded her mind on numerous occasions. Piya fought internally and her love for Piyush eroded her doubts. She shared all her feelings with Piyush, he always listened intently and never judged her comments. Piyush was like a sponge soaking away everything.

Piya completed her professional course and started her career. Piyush was still struggling with his studies. Patience, which was all he needed from Piya. And piya kept on waiting. Piyush got a job and gradually settled down. Piya was happy for him, after all, Piyush never thought of anybody other than Piya. And just when Piya was happy that things were working out another major blow came along. Piyush wanted another 1-2 years before he could marry. Piya could not wait any longer; another 1-2 years meant another round of chiding from her parents. Besides, she did not find any logic behind Piyush's reasoning. He had a decent job, had a salary enough to meet their needs. Piya was even ready to leave her job to join him. Then what was keeping him back. After much heated debates, they finally married.

People commented on how lucky the couple was! Everything was so perfect. Piya questioned herself, is she really happy? Yes, she was, and the next moment, she had a nagging feeling. Is Piyush happy? He seems to be, but he never answers directly to my questions. There is no point asking him about his feelings. He is so detached. Think about it, he did not even stood beside me during the photo session. People had to literally drag him for a photo, and he never came and asked me whether I would care for a drink or some food. Ok, his relatives were there, but I married him, not his relatives. And what about the few days that they were together, before he left the city for his job. Oh yes, he was stationed outside their hometown. Piya would join him later because he was waiting for the family quarter. He hardly ever sat and talked to Piya. He was shy, but he had every right to talk to his wife. Why would somebody bother to think negatively about that? And think of the honeymoon, he nodded off beside Piya in the bus or the car and Piya kept watching the beautiful scenes of Nainital, alone. Piyush even missed the wild boar and deers at the Corbett National Park. The vibrations of a car or bus made him sleepy and he smiled sheepishly when Piya complanined. Piya waited for a hug, for a sweet kiss, for a romantic word. Piyush never cared to understand her. Piya understood, she knew Piyush loved her; he was just not demonstrative enough. He would eventually change. Nothing has changed, a baby, a change of career, a wonderful apartment, everything has happened. People come and take Piya's suggestion. They are awed with the kind of chemistry she shares with her husband. She is so frank and independent. And she always speaks so positively about her husband. Yes, Piya lies, with innovative tales of how her husband loves her, how thoughtful he is, how he automatically understands her needs and gifts her with the diamond ring or the expensive suit that she had craved for and thought of not buying. Piya bought them herself; Piyush hates shopping and seldom accompanies her.

Piya thought pensively, what makes her stay together with Piyush. She still loves her. There is a vacant feeling in her heart, an abysmal aching, which only Piyush can feel up. Nothing will change, she knows yet she waits. Besides what about their child, she should not miss growing up without a father.

Piyush, he is difficult to understand. But, let us try and understand him.

I love Piya, why should I shout from rooftops to let her know that. She is a romantic and I am hardcore practical. Besides, I have done everything to appease her. This decision of buying another apartment was because of Piya. She can leave independently, away from all the interference and bugging of my mother. I love my mother, she is alone, yet I made this decision. Piya never seems to appreciate me. She has a negative comment about everything I do. Just the other day, I wanted to buy her something for her birthday. She likes surprises, and I could never understand what she wanted. So I always try to take her to buy her a gift. OK, it is always not possible to accompany her on her shopping sprees. But let me tell you, she is a good and practical shopper. She ends up having the best deals, good quality shirts and trousers for me. Her taste is refined and elegant. Oh, let me tell you about that event. I took her to a jewellery shop and she liked a bangle. The bangle was 50% over my budget. And I didn't have a credit card. I could not buy her the bangle. She offered her card but my pride did not allow me to use her card. She came out of the shop and complained bitterly. Why do you have to do such things if you don't have the money. The salesman knows me so well and I wonder what he would be thinking. The next day, on her birthday, I wanted to surprise her, and went directly to her office and gifted her an expensive saree. Do you know the saree cost 14000 rupees, and Piya just hated the colour and the design? She made me change the saree and accompanied me so that I don't make another blunder. Well ok, I know she wears a saree once in a bluemoon, but why can't she be happy with my gifts. She thought that buying such a costly saree was a total waste of money, she would have preferred a jewellery, and she thinks it is a good investment. She complains that I don't share my feelings with her. I go and praise her qualities to every single person I can think of. I admire her patience and her love for me. How she has changed me into a better and more confident person. But I despise her anger and frustration. Her anger blows out sometimes and I fail to control her. She is so successful in her career. Do you know she earns more than me, but she has never complained? She has always smoothed away my worries and difficulties. Just the other day she paid my LIC premium and my credit card bills. She complains that I am not careful about my money. I will be, when I will earn more. She makes all the investment decisions, then why should I bother. She likes to take responsibilities and then she complains. It is difficult to understand her. She also told me the other day that we need to meet a marriage counselor. Why do we need a stranger to solve our problems?

A third person?

Perhaps this emotional tug of war goes between each and every couple. But something more happened with Piya and Piyush.

One day, Piya received some forwarded messages from a person. On further investigation she realised that Piyush has developed friendship with a colleague of the opposite sex. They talk to each other often. The mails are mostly Piyush's mails to the girl. He has expressed his love for her through the mails. But he has also acknowledged that he loves his wife and will never leave her. But with her, he is more comfortable, than he is with his wife.

Piya was shocked. Her world was shattered. Why would Piyush want to love somebody else? What did she do to alienate him? She has always loved him, and she has never thought of another person in her life.

Piya immediately met Piyush. She told him everything, but Piyush vehemently denied of all such mails. He just had a hi-hello relation with the girl. She needed his help for a job for his boyfriend. And he has never set his eyes on the mails that Piya showed him. Piya was confused and very much in pain. She did not know what to do?

Piya wants to save her relation; Piyush also is trying to adjust to Piya's demand. The mails and his relation with his colleague are still unexplained. Piya has given him one last chance. Do you think their relation will survive? Do you think that Piyush is honest and speaking the truth? Do you think Piya can forgive Piyush and continue with the relation?

I have been busy attending some strange occasions. They are strange because I never heard about them before.

There is a rich and aged couple in my neighbourhood. They make the highest donation for the Durga and Kali pujas and the umpteen other occasions. The new neighborhood I have shifted is notorious for its forced donations. The local guys just need an excuse. They have understood that we are a tough nut to crack, and they would always take the reference of the rich couple. Secretly, I had started hating them. I always feel that extracting money forcefully for any puja is a punishable crime. I will donate generously if they want it for a good cause. Call me an atheist; but wasting hoards of money on religious purposes and then immersing the Goddess in water is a total waste in my view. Make it small and homely; I am sure nobody would complain.

This very couple invited me for an occasion called Tulsi Vivaha. I had never heard of this before, so I made a research on it.

I learnt that the festival falls after Diwali. It is after the marriage of Tulsi, that the marriage season officially starts. Somewhere I read that with Tulsi Vivaha all auspicious things can start. I have never heard bengali’s celebrating this, so I was completely unaware. Good that I learnt something new.

I was surprised with the pompousness of the celebration. At least 500 people were invited. The lady was amiable and welcomed me warmly. Thanks to my work that keeps me away 12 hours from my home, I am not quite sociable. She took personal interest in introducing me to everybody. I missed the formalities though, but all of a sudden, the lady of the house started crying. To my dismay, others joined. Whatever I could understand, the lady was crying because she was childless. And every time, the Tulsi Vivaha occasion reminded her that she was missing the pleasure of marrying off her own child.

Truly speaking I could not share the grief. With so many girls, waiting for a groom and their poor father unable to gather the basic amenities, I could show them at least a dozen whom she could adopt and gift a healthy life. I have become wiser now, not to open my mouth under such circumstances. I am notorious for my frankness and decided to be subtle. However, I would have preferred if she did Tulsi Vivahaa every year and instead of feeding the overtly overfed people, she could donate the money for a good cause.

Yesterday our apartment neighbour came to invite us. He started by saying that “people have dropped a Kartik at my doorstep.” I became a little defensive; I thought perhaps he was complaining about my daughter. I asked him, “why and who dropped it?” He stared at me blankly and changed his statement. He said that I am doing Kartik puja so you three are invited. Later on, I learned that his friends had played a prank. They generally drop a statue of the God Kartik at the doorstep of a childless and young couple. It then becomes compulsory for that couple to offer pujas to the God at least for the next 3 years. And naturally this includes inviting the close friends and relatives. In this case the well-meaning friends also force a lavish dinner or lunch. This is however prevalent in Bengal and I was unaware. We went and ate a good dinner, and watched the hapless couple forcing a plastic smile and entertaining the so-called close friends and treating them with drinks and dinner. What a religious waste of time and money!

My husband’s aunt, the eldest in the family, passed away. She was practically fading away before our eyes. Her kidneys stopped functioning, but she could get well. She was a mother of three children. All hale and hearty, and happily married. She has been suffering for sometime. The usual stuff, high bp, diabetes, heart problem. I still don’t know how it attacked her kidney so soon. I was not close to her, I met her occasionally, and she always behaved sweetly. No acid comments, no taciturn gazes. In a way I liked her. I was usually myself while I visited her, she would never complain even if I never spoke after the initial formal exchanges. What I mean she had very less expectation from life. Her husband passed away at an early age and she managed everything herself. They were rich and money was not a problem. She single handedly educated her two daughters and her only son. Speaking of her son, she even gracefully accepted her Punjabi daughter-in-law. I was amazed to hear that she cooked two different meal everyday. A full course Bengali meal and a strict vegetarian meal for her daughter in law. Being a Punjabi and a vegetarian, she couldn’t stand Bengali food. Her son, aunt’s grandchild spoke in hindi to his mother and sometimes with all the other family members. Since he is in Kolkata and in a Bengali family, I never spoke hindi with him and the child understood after our first meeting.

I wanted to analyse Jethima’s (My Husband’s aunt) household. Her husband was a dictator, his command was supreme. Jethima was a mother cum cook cum wife in his household, without any power. Her two daughter’s have quivering shadowy personalities. Strangely enough, you will never feel their presence even after sitting and sharing the same sofa for hours. Thanks to their father’s reign they were just shadows moving about stealthily. They have good education and are married and well settled. Fortunately, whatever I analyzed they have good husbands, friendly and understanding. Perhaps they don’t miss their father. But I still don’t know why they don’t miss their mother. Do they blame their mother for their father’s monarchical rule? Did they miss a lot while growing up? I have heard that the eldest daughter had a bad headache and could not complain about it, and silently went about her floor-mopping task, fearing another beating from their father. After jethima passed away, whatever her daughter’s did was mere formality and they were moving like robots.

The son is different. He was bold enough to marry outside his community. And his wife is still a mystery to me. I have heard that she is the epitome of a bad daughter in law image. She beats everybody near her reach when she is angry. I don’t know what makes her angry in that household. I have never heard anybody going beyond the minimum decibel. She wants all the property in her name, good, and who says she won’t have. After all she has legal rights over it. But can this be an issue to fight and be rude? Oh, I should say that she has never behaved badly with me. I am her devrani, and she has always behaved gently with me. I saw her during the sradhha ceremony, her face like a thundercloud. She could burn everybody with her eyes, specifically her two sister-in-laws.

I am at a loss with the kind of chemistry this household shares. Perhaps the head of the family with his tyrannical rules have failed to unite the family and their feelings for each other. With the passing away of jethima, I can vouch that the two sisters and their only brother will never ever meet. Because I also heard that, the two sisters have signed the papers withdrawing their claim to their paternal property.

I also heard that jethima was on a prescribed diet with restrictions of all kind. She could take water only to gulp her medicines. It still fails me why, before going to the hospital she had a full cup of strong coffee and a hot haldiram mixture. Perhaps this is what is called slow poisoning.

In short, as a total outsider, I saw a family crumble due to some unexplained forces. Some would say this was destined. In my heart, I have a nagging feeling, things could have been different.

She is from New Jersey, a physician by profession. She has retired from her work and has decided to invest all her savings for the orphans. Yes, Michelle has decided to spend the rest of her life, taking care of helpless and abandoned children in her orphanage-Sishur Sevay in Kolkata. The first time I met her she hugged me and said namashkar. She was wearing a simple cotton sari and except for her accent and her skin colour there was nothing that could differentiate her from an ordinary Bengali mother. Everybody calls her mummy. I was touched by her enthusiasm and simplicity.

She first developed her love for India from her adopted Indian daughter. She was a Bengali and Michelle proudly showed me her snaps. I watched how love and quality life could change everything. I saw a confident, vibrant young girl smiling back at me.

As Michelle says, “One of my hopes in coming to India to do this work was to show my daughter that India does care about its orphans. I wanted to refute what many Indian adopters feel, that India simply did not want them.”

Michelle has built a two-storied house for the orphans. She is sitting ready for her children. The rooms of the orphanage, the beds, the new mattresses, the dolls, the well-equipped kitchen, the marble-floored bathroom; all gives the impression of a newly built home, cozy and inviting.

Thanks to our bureaucracy, she has not yet received a single child for her orphanage. I fail to understand all the formalities, but I am sure there is a way out and Michelle with her grit and determination will make it happen.

Apart from her orphanage, she sponsors dozens of children in other organizations. She has donated thousands of rupees for the ailing and the sick.

As Michelle says, “I have paid for five operations, six hospitalizations (at least) and kept one old woman alive for two years on blood transfusions I paid for. At one time, I joked about wanting a group rate at Woodlands Hospital. I have said no when I needed to. Many people are angry with me for not paying for their healthcare… a kind of entitlement people feel when they learn I have paid for others. This comes with the territory. The alternative is to not give, which I won’t do. Saying no is difficult but I do it regularly.”

For her orphanage, she wants to stick to some principles. She wants only orphan, someone who does not have any living relation. There are numerous instances, where the parents are too poor to support the child and send them to an orphanage. When the child is grown up, they try to claim them back. Michelle is against this idea.

“The truth is that I just want the children. I am being very stubborn with the government in refusing to take non-orphans, for many reasons. I know the orphans are there, and I know they need care they are not getting, so I just keep pushing in different ways. But that's mostly what I think about, plan, strategize about.” 

Michelle visited on adoption orphanage and sent me a mail with the photos and her observation:

“These children reside in an adoption orphanage. They have been offered to Indian families but have been rejected. The little girl I’m holding is Hepatitis B+, as are 10% of children in Kolkata. The little girl on the right has some form of Thalassemia, or Thalassemia Trait. For these reasons they will not be adopted by an Indian family. They are also now too old for Indian adoption, and the girl I’m holding is considered too dark for Indian adoption. 

These children are truly abandoned. They were rejected by their biological families. Indian adopting families did not want them. They sit as unwanted inventory in an adoption business, tied to windows and cribs. 

I have shown these pictures and more to several government officials. I understand that the government can do nothing. If they intervene, the children will have to go to Sukanya, where as we learned, the medical care is inadequate. These children would likely die under those conditions.

Next, on a professional level, I cannot as a physician turn away these children because of their health needs, as they are ones I feel fully able to support financially, and in terms of finding the right care. I do not practice medicine here, but I also do not leave my knowledge behind.”

I was thinking for sometime that Titiksha is growing up. She no longer wants to scurry up to my lap; in fact she resists being taken in my lap. She will always say with an effort, I am grown up now. See I can walk and she will start flapping her legs like a humming bird. However she does have a special bond with her father. She will always extend her hands before him for a lap-tour in the neighbourhood. I sigh when I see her growing, and I suddenly yearn for another child, someone vulnerable and totally dependent on me. I know we are not ready for another. I don’t know whether we will ever be ready for another. But the yearning still exists, to hold another child, small and beautiful and admire the completeness, and wonder what a miracle life is. And how blessed I am to give birth to a life.

Titiksha has two strong supporters, my mother and my husband. They will support her through thick and thin and really make me look like a villain. It doesn’t matter; their presence never stops me from giving her a lesson or lecture. She requires that, and all this attention from her supporters would make a brat out of her. And only if I could capture the look in her eyes when I enact my villainous role.

I sometimes ask myself, am I too strict, how does she view me in her little logical mind? I don’t care, I know I love her a lot, and she loves me too.

Yesterday she was crawling on the floor. I reminded her twice that she would trip and fall. She was wearing a trouser that was slipping under her leg and I was just planning to change her into her night dress. And then, as I could see the future, she tripped and fell and hit her chin. There was an immediate bluish mark under her chin; she really had a bad fall. She cried a lot from the self inflicted pain. And to my sorrow, she went away from my lap to her pappa. This led me to think that she was really more comfortable with her father. Of course her whimpering stopped only when I struck a deal that I would apply nail polish on her nails. Afterwards she also told me that she would never crawl again.

Next morning I had an early-morning conference call to attend. This I generally take from my home. And while at the call, I heard Titiksha wailing uncontrollably. I was distracted and missed a lot of discussion, I knew I would receive a MOM so it didn’t matter, but I was not able to leave the call and I was in another room. My attention totally switched to her loud sobs and thankfully pappa dearie brought her to me. She sat on my lap contented, all her tears and sobs suddenly subsiding.

On my way to office I really smiled with motherly satisfaction. I still have a long way to go before I find an empty nest.