Tamilnadu diaries.

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Freshly cooked and served hot options in breakfast are unique to only the South of India; The varied spread of breakfast items is invigorating, and the aroma entices the senses. From the roadside stall to a famous joint, everyone serves tasty food. The piping hot idlis with the generous serving of chutneys, the vadas dipped in sambar, the dosa filled with a medley of masalas, the Pongal oozing ghee to the upma filled with crispy cashews, the options are unlimited.

Every hot meal always has filter coffee as a compliment.

The heady aroma of filter coffee and the scent of fresh jasmine flowers adorning the idol of Balaji or gracefully placed in women's braids work wonders in the mornings, much better than any good morning greeting we receive on WhatsApp.

The warm breeze, the noisy fan, dripping sweat and sipping coffee can simultaneously happen only in this part of the country.

The early morning visuals are to die for:

The women beautify their outer courtyards with rangoli, exposing their feet adorned with heavy silver anklets, the big vermillion bindi on their foreheads, and a horizontal line above the bindi with vibhuti(ash) from their favourite deity's temple. Neatly draped cotton saree, well-resting jasmine in the braid, colourful glass bangles, thick gold chain and a beautiful nose pin. Most women's appearance is similar to that of the mother goddess.

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Thiruvananthapuram diaries.

 Thiruvananthapuram diaries.

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The last leg of the tour ended in Thiruvananthapuram.

We started the day with the darshan of the divine Padmanabha Swamy, two kilometres away from our hotel.

We decided to wake up early, shower, dress, and reach in the first hour.

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When we visited Kerala in 2014, I missed the opportunity to visit the temple as my saree wasn't handy then, and this time, too, I made the same blunder. Thanks to the temple authorities for relaxing the rules and allowing a makeshift saree with the veshti.

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The experience of visiting the temple was at par with Tirupati Tirumala.

A memorable couple of seconds inside the complex makes this life meaningful and worthy.

An old temple with history, architecture, disciplined staff and divinity to soak your soul in. You will never want to come out of the temple complex. It is vast, widespread, picturesque and extremely beautiful, rendering even the world's best cameras incapable of capturing its magnificence. I wept my heart out, sitting inside the premises on the staircase.

Thank you to everyone who facilitated it.

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Parting lunch with friends at Kovalam beach and dinner at a modest accommodation in an Airbnb house with the local family brings to the end a memorable trip.

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Back to the grind from tomorrow, all rejuvenated and charged to take on the mantle.

I started planning for the next before the end of this. As a wise man once told me, aap sankalp karo sacche Mann se,bas Baki sab apne aap hi hojayega.

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All my married life, I have been burdening my man with the responsibility of taking me to temples; what a disservice it is to our beautiful marriage.

Finally found the wings to fly and chart a path to the places of my choice with him as the wind beneath my wings.

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To all the mothers out there, biological and otherwise, here is wishing you a happy mothers day! Cheers.

 This Mother's Day is the first time I have missed my mom so extensively.

It had never happened before.

I woke up to a dream in which I called my mom, and she was crying on the phone. When I asked why she denied crying, I could sense her tears through the vibrations in her voice. Mothers cannot hide anything from their daughters. 

I tried again, hello mummy, hello mummy....the line went blank, 

I opened my eyes, and the sharp sunlight spearing through the curtains made me cover my eyes. That's when I felt my moist eyes, so the day started with tears.

I lay on the bed, shielding my eyes with my forearm, thinking of my mother. At 46 years of age, even with so much work, I feel lonely many times, parents gone, children flying out of the nest, body ageing. It all seems so futile and directionless.

My mother, too, might have felt the same.

She wasn't a working woman; In a male-dominated household, economically dependent, and Homebound, the helplessness was manifold in her case. I wish she had lived a little longer, given me an opportunity to take care of her to pamper her the way my children do to me.

Alas, life never gives a second chance. People who leave us will never come back to us. 

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I got up to attend to the daily chores with a heavy heart. We adopted a street dog mother while she was pregnant with three puppies. They live just outside our gate. In the morning, with a toothbrush in my mouth, I went out to play with them, gave the babies a nice massage with the comb,  fed them, nursed the mother's wounds, and wished her a happy mothers day. Maybe it was a subconscious attempt to add meaning to life to my existence.

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In the second half, I switched to Netflix and watched spy thrillers back to back, Inglorious bastards and Raazi(5th time).

Sensing my gloominess, the daughter offered to take me out for dinner and shopping; she proffered spending the prize money of Rs 6000/- she won for clearing the KVPY exam with good marks. She suggested that her dad stay home and watch IPL, which makes him happy.

We drove to the Mall, and all along, she indulged in a pep talk to make me happy.

She finally asked me why do you live with dad. He doesn't do anything to make you feel special ever. I never saw him bringing gifts or praising you, or valuing what you do for all of us.

 I said it doesn't hurt me, preesha, as I know his limitations on this aspect; he compensates for it differently. He is a good husband; ours is not a fairytale marriage but fairly and reasonably a good one. He gave me the freedom to live my life on my terms, which I cherish the most in our marriage, and mental freedom is a blessing for an ambitious, competitive working woman.

I haven't outsourced to him the responsibility of always keeping me pleased.

 It is my life, and I should find ways ad means to do things which make me happy without passing on this burden to anyone else.

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We reached the destination, and her moods wavered between buying gifts for me to purchasing things for herself.

We went around the Mall, picking up small stuff from here and there. She picked up some dresses and went to the trial room, checking. The Mall was abuzz with active shoppers on mothers day weekend.

The incredible scene was the one near the ladies' trial room. Men were standing outside with clothes on their shoulders in their hands, waiting for their wives/girlfriends to come out looking for approval. They would send the ladies back with suggestions on fittings on what to keep and discard.

I spent nearly 30 minutes watching the Ramp walk and the audience. I was convinced that the men enjoyed watching women of all ages walking in and out of the trial rooms trying new colourful clothes, short and long. 

Mean The daughter finalized a lovely dress for herself ending my ordeal of standing outside the trial room with a bag full of clothes.

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We eventually came home exhausted with a sack full of apparel for everyone.

I told the aunties(maids) to have dinner and sleep, wished them happy Mother's Day, and asked them if they wanted to eat anything special.

One of the two aunties asked for alcohol. I gave her a chilled beer and told her to fry some fish for the two of them.

Even momentarily, I did not judge her for her choice(beer) of celebration.

She narrated how she in her village home had beer made of rice every weekend. Her friend used to make the spirit with cooked rice and sell it to all the labourers. Most of her clients were women.

My maid is a hardworking woman in her late 40s. Her husband died early, and she brought up the children single-handedly and married her daughter to a man from her caste, but the son eloped with a girl from another caste. Hence she broke off ties with him forever.

Now she earns enough to live life queen-sized and enjoy the spirits and meat every weekend. As her employer, I will ensure she has great fun at work.

My other maid-aunty has been a spinster all her life; she remained married to her responsibilities of taking care of the siblings, parents, nieces and nephews. She, too, is a mother, not a biological mother but a mother goddess to her family members.

I shifted my strategy of hiring aunties in place of Didis for domestic help. Aunties are grounded and stable as they have seen enough of life's good and evil and are better judges of their employer.

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Every woman is remarkable with a unique, complex story.

We should not be calling one mother more hardworking than the other. Every mother strives hard to provide the best to her children with all her means.

Demeaning and categorizing women, especially mothers, is not fair.

Once we become a mother, once we take up the responsibility of mothering, I guess we undergo some chemical reactions in our body-mind, which recasts us into very persistent tenacious, relentlessly stubborn women ready to move mountains for the welfare of our children,

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To all the mothers out there, biological and otherwise, here is wishing you a happy mothers day! Cheers.

 

Fake lifestyles, mannerisms, and macho stories

 Recently a lady who later became a friend came to get her Kundli checked.

After answering all her important queries, she asked me one challenging question to which even the Kundli had no answer.

Her query was: Why does my husband change his behaviour in the presence of his mother or his side of the family?  

A loving man suddenly starts behaving like a strict husband who doesn't care much for his wife's opinion.

When he and the kids sit together as a family, he will call my name affectionately, serve me food on the plate, praise my cooking skill, etc. He compliments me to the moon privately but always wants the upper hand in public. 

When his parents are around or when we are amidst some distant relatives, even in a gathering of friends, he will create the impression of a man in control of the house. He will call my name commandingly and summon me for the smallest of the works. 

Please look into my Kundli and tell me the reason for this high-handed approach of my husband.

Recently we went to a friend's place, and while we all were chatting, I said something everyone appreciated; I noticed His face, looks, and body language. His countenances changed the moment people started praising me over him. 

She then asked why my husband is so chameleon-like?

I convinced her by narrating from my personal experiences that not just her husband but all of them are chameleon-like.

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Let me explain; I have analysed this myself for many years.

Husbands are like political parties, always in appeasement mode. The wife and her family are the fixed vote bank. He takes their acceptance for granted like BJP takes some Hindu votes, and AIMIM takes Muslim votes for granted.

They will do and speak precisely that which, according to them, is appealing to the segment they are dealing with. Appeasement is a skill mastered by only two groups on this earth,  political parties and husbands,

Wives are like foolish Aam Janata, who can get swayed by emotions. 

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I went on

In a recent conversation with a friend, he brought out some fantastic facts about image building. According to him, we all build a particular image of ourselves and our spouses in our minds and then modulate our behaviour to suit that image.

I asked him: Is it not very common among men to indulge in this image-building exercise?

They create an image of their home, wife, and hospitality in their minds and then enforce the same on the family to do everything to maintain that image. They start accepting or rejecting everything unless it aligns with the picture in their mind.

She asked again you mean to say this problem is universal?

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I enjoyed attending to her as it reminded me of my dad. I told her Maybe her husband interned under the men of my family.

 I guess husbands do not have just two or three faces but always four. They think of themselves like Lord Brahma, our creator. My man also keeps a beard like our creator Ji and, like him, has four faces. 

Brahma Ji's faces signify the sacred knowledge of the four Vedas: Rig, Yajur, Sama, and Atharva. But the men of this world keep multiple fronts to serve that " single great image" they want to create about themselves.

They project Fake lifestyles, mannerisms, and macho stories to expand their self-image. The wife gets dragged into nurturing this image sometimes by force and sometimes by choice.

Those women who resist have stories like these to resonate, and those who participate can come down and write comments on this post.

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We had a hearty laugh, and it is a feel-good moment to have somebody share the grief; with her permission, I am disseminating this to you all with the client turned into a friend's permission.

We often alter our character based on others' reactions.

 We often alter our character based on others' reactions.

We try to become like people who we despise. The trait which we loathe in someone is the one which motivates us to behave with them, like them, and gradually it becomes a habit.

Haven't we heard this term often, "I gave it back to her in her style?"

I find something grossly wrong with this saying.

We should always give it back to people in our style, not their style.

Why alter our character for an individual we think is not well-behaved, arrogant, rude, selfish, etc.

Should we get influenced by someone/something Wrong? 

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We often walk into gatherings/parties, waiting for others to acknowledge us with a " HI" or a "Hello".

 We look at each other from the corner of our eyes, waiting for the other to make the first move. We sometimes detour to avoid crossing paths, too, for fear of bumping into each other. Most people believe the awkwardness of thwarting is better than initiating the greetings.

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Someone avoiding eye contact with us is giving out a signal of disengagement.

People with inferiority or a superiority complex often disregard others.

But what's wrong with saying hi and complimenting people on their dress and appearance? Small talk about dress, kids, etc., always helps dismiss the initial discomfort.

This Fake elitism is so rampant everywhere these days.

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This pseudo-elitism is rubbing off on most of us. A friend at a previous party suddenly started dodging people to avoid exchanging glances.

We have started becoming like the people we despised most until yesterday.

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To me, the most handsome men and women are those 

who acknowledge others' presence

1. with a hi/hello

2. or by waving a hand

3. or bending the neck

4. Look into the eyes from a distance and smile by battling the eyelids.

The Elite may wear the best of the dress, expensive makeup, and diamond jewellery. Still, no person can look attractive or make a pleasant impression without adorning basic mannerisms.

In illuminating and imbibing this fake elitism, we often fail to teach our children, especially teenagers, to approach elders to greet them and receive their blessings.

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Studies show that people who maintain eye contact are perceived as attractive, competent, socially skilled, in good mental health, credible, and dominant.

When we establish eye contact with someone, we make the person feel important, and human beings value the desire to feel important the most. 

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we meet all kinds of people at parties 

Some people are not tired of sharing their personal stories.

Someone only has a sad happening to share whenever you meet them.

Some Others give wisdom to the world.

Some share their success stories, hiding the pains, trials and tribulations.

We need to watch and listen to each person, deduce where they are coming from, show empathy, and take home our share of learning.

By indulging people and immersing ourselves in their stories, we enrich our understanding of this world and its workings.

So go, reach out to people, ask questions, listen to them intently, apply your senses, extrapolate your knowledge, and walk out richer every time you exit a party.

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 Next time you get invited to attend a public gathering or a private party, do not forget 

to wear your smile over the expensive lipstick

positive body language over the designer dress

Walk with confidence irrespective of your height, weight, skin colour, or salary cheque.

Don't become like the fake people who you despise the most.

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It's time to bring food processors, dishwashers, rumbas and vacuum cleaners to the vanguard

 The covid years saw a massive turnover of domestic helps in my house.

My permanent help left at the peak of COVID-19 to take care of her parents and then apparently married her longtime boyfriend, to whom she was introduced via missed call or wrong number.

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All the girls who worked in metro cities and had to return during COVID-19 beginning in 2020 took shelter in my house for a month or two. With every intermittent Travel relaxation, they flew back to their high-paying jobs in metros. 

Restaurants, the homes of television actors, and IT couples hire them with big pay. The girls fancy these big cities. Moreover, the agencies that recruit them send them tickets. They speak English phrases and own expensive smartphones and toiletries. They maintain a good standard of living, many notch up compared to the girls who work in towns.

 It is heartening to see girls embrace economic freedom, though some tread it responsibly, some with gay abandon and some realistically.

 Some have taken me for a ride in the past two years. 

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The girls. When forced to retreat to their homes in Bastis, they couldn't adjust nicely to the native homes devoid of Western commodes and sprays,  so they started taking shelter wherever they could live in the towns.

Some landed in my abode looking for work, concealing their plans of flying back to their metro jobs once the air was clear of the virus.

They were fretting about waiting for a call from their agency. Their first demand was a WIFI password; my first demand was a year-long commitment, and both agreed.

They never told me that I was the stop-gap arrangement. None lasted beyond two months; Mantri Saheb used to come on TV to announce the lifting travel restrictions. These girls would come to me with a cooked-up story of a bereavement in the family and then fly directly to Mumbai, Delhi or Bangalore. The agent would send tickets on mobile, and girls used to abandon me mercilessly. It happened five times in two COVID years. One of the girls was waiting to elope and get married but had to seek shelter in my house due to coronavirus guidelines.

Nonetheless, she married in Sevoke temple and flew back to Mumbai as a man and wife. Their combined earning is Rs 50000/month, as domestic help in a TV serial director's house. Working in such homes gives them access to fancy jewellery, makeup and costumes, presenting a feeling of elevation from their grassroots.

As recently as last week, the help went home saying there was an emergency. A cousin died; I helped her pack the bag, gave her money, dropped her at the bus stop, brought her ticket, and stood under the scorching sun till her bus left the station. I did it less out of love for her and more as an appeal, a request to return, to not abandon me.

She followed in the footsteps of her predecessors, never to return; interestingly, she went back to her beauty parlour course. She was waiting for parlours to become operational and the training centres to resume classes. My home was a makeshift arrangement. My home became a referral centre in their network.

I got worked up with all this exploitation and tried contacting the agency to take their services.

The agency refused to entertain local clients as we pay less, and girls too prefer working far away from home. Some girls fear people from home harassing them for money and demanding frequent visits. 

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I reached a dead-end finding ways to hire 24-hour domestic help; hence, I resorted to part-timers. The part-timer is my age and can fully empathise with a working mom's agony of running home, as she too has to come to work, leaving her kids at home.

Now that I am implementing and distributing the burden of running the kitchen/laundry to my family, they are pretty annoyed.

The husband blamed me for not retaining the girls, calling me inefficient in handling the workforce. I shouted back at him, saying I have a track record of each girl working with me for not less than four years; blame corona, not me, and I blame you, doctors, for not eliminating the virus that is causing chaos and havoc in homes dependant on 24/7 help.

The daughter watching us fight intervened and said, "Mom, I guess you married the wrong man"?

The son said, "She knows that; say something new, preesha." 

She said no, I don't mean Dad is a bad guy

I want to say that Mother should have married a guy who owns a placement agency. He would have found domestic help for her and maybe jobs for us, too. Marrying a doctor was wrong, Mommy; you still have time.

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 I was about to burst into laughter, but I hid it. I left the room to resume cleaning diyas for Hanuman Jayanti puja.

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It's time to bring food processors, dishwashers, rumbas and vacuum cleaners to the vanguard. It's the juncture to become less dependent on a third person to care for our homes.

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This trip of mine, too, is in pursuit of one such addiction, Preesha!

 March first week is always loaded with events to celebrate women empowerment.

This year too, for the 8th March afternoon, I received an invitation to attend a women's day event. As the program was in a mall, I asked the daughter to join me.

Preesha jumped in, saying she could spend time at a bookstore while I attended the event.

A day before, too, I was at another women's day event hosted by Raggnee Agarwaal

While we were driving to the place, she asked me: mom, what do these events mean to you?

Every year, you get busy around 8th march speaking on women empowerment, whereas you at home ask all of our permission to go on a three day holiday.

Don't you feel disempowered seeking approval from children, husband, maids, pets, like now when you are willing to go on pilgrimage with Neeru aunty, you are so stuck here because of my upcoming board exams.

She continued, on the one hand, you preach about fundamental rights for women, you talk about how every female should have the right to choose her life goals and methods to reach there. And look at your double standards here seeking approval from family to go on a spiritual sojourn.

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I paused for a moment played with the car stereo as her questions made me uncomfortable.

I took a deep breath to frame my answer; I try to be very careful while speaking to her because, as a mother, I will be setting an example for her to emulate in the future.

I said :

Someone has to do my job when I am not around; hence I seek your permission to outsource my responsibilities and hold you accountable. I am sorted if you take care of pets, garden, kitchen, and maids.

But these days, I am also worried about your exams. I know you can manage. But there will be bizarre onlookers judging me for going on a pilgrimage two months before her daughter's boards.

I can hear the murmurs behind my back :

HAA, what an irresponsible mother, imperfect parenting, mother gallivanting around before her daughter's boards. shame on her etc. etc

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Maa, again double standards; why should you worry about what the world has to say.

If the problem is my exams, then it is between you and me, and now that I am asking you to join Neeru aunty, you should go.

If your problem is the world, then I don't appreciate your thought process at all, and By the way, if I do well in exams, it is good for me, and I know that my failure and success is my responsibility, not yours or anyone else's.

I need you around without a doubt, but I will be happy if you cater to your needs along with taking care of mine.

And what is this obsession with temples? Why don't you go to Maldives, Greece or Goa?

I said: I feel rejuvenated when I soak in the energy around spiritual places. I know this is a passing phase; I will soon outgrow this need once I uncover the answers to my questions.

You know, last year, at the holy shrine of Vaishno Devi, one of the fellow pilgrims once narrated how he has started feeling disconnected from spiritual places. After visiting all the Hindu places of worship, the wisdom he derived was to seek God within.

Then I prodded him on why he was visiting Vaishno Devi for the Third time?

His reply made me happy; he said, "I just came to give my wife company". Like you, she is also searching for God in the temples.

I said I am not here purely in pursuit of or love of God; I have selfish reasons. I came here out of fear, greed and thankfulness in equal proportions.

He said you would evolve soon.

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So mom, do you think you have evolved in this one year of whirlwind tours to multiple temples?

I answered her back with a question.

So finally, can I go preesha, On a four-day break?

She said, go, momy go, live your life!

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Teerath yatra is not a comfortable luxury holiday; one has to stand in a long queue, use unhygienic public toilets, may get lost in an unknown town, exploited by fake pandits. The challenges are manifold in every temple town.

During my childhood, I have seen many women(widows) and retired couples getting into tightly packed yatra buses to escape into a month-long pilgrimage in the company of strangers to faraway destinations.

On their return, the entire village used to gather to take the prasadam, collect souvenirs and listen to the fantastic stories of the pilgrimage. Each visitor returned home with a single dream in their eyes to someday visit char Dham, go to Kashi and bathe in the Ganges at Haridwar.

Tirupati and Shirdi are the shrines that people in south India accomplish once in their lifetime. The ultimate destination is crossing the Godavari, surpassing Narmada, reaching Ganga and ending it in Gangasagar.

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Watching my grandparents and mother-in-law take long voyages into faraway lands seeking divine grace has influenced me.

In the recent past, I made a mockery of my Sister-in-law Manitha Reddy when she repeated her visits to India from the USA to seek shelter in ashrams for days together. She became an expert in doing yajna, Japa and mantra. She is engulfed in bhakti now and thus delegated all her happiness and sorrows to the divine.

As Srila Prabhupada calls it, "The nectar of devotion" I guess this nectar, once tasted, converts EVERYONE into an ADDICT.

Only the blessed get a taste of it once during their lifetime;

This trip of mine, too, is in pursuit of one such addiction, Preesha!

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I know I am swimming against the tide when it comes to parenting.

But I need to break these stereotypes that children are only mothers' responsibility.

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I am thankful to my friends for helping me and being my companions in visiting various temples across the length and breadth of India.

Aruna Raprolu, Neeru Sharma . Shakuntla Shekhawat Vani Reddy Archana Rachmale