The march past – - or rather, the march in place – started and we could see her in the distance, still having fun, peering into the crowd to spot us. We waved back merrily.

Next came the drill. She walked out with her colourful ring, stood in the front row. And started bawling. And ran to me. And that was that.

No amount of pleading or hissing, on her brother’s part, would make her budge. Still, he tried. He almost convinced her to participate and took her back to her teachers. Then they did something she hates – they dragged her by clutching her arm and set her off again. We could see her run her race, sobbing loudly. So we brought her back with us and we all watched her friends run, skip and do other assorted kiddie stuff together. After 5 minutes, when she realised she will not be compelled to run again, she was in her element. Chatting away to glory, laughing loudly and generally being a belle of the ball without actually going to the ball.

A few days later, P’s school had its Annual Day celebrations and as he was acting in the English play, we all trooped to the school to see the programmes. The Theatre Club has been practicing for weeks now and P, we knew, was a ‘Shaolin Scholar’ and as the school makes sure the dialogues are recorded before hand (to prevent having mikes and wires tripping up the children and no problem of the actors forgetting their lines on the day), he was pretty confident. The play was second in the day’s order and we watched with quiet pride as he did his bit competently. He has no stage fear – even when he was in Foundation Stage, 3 months shy of his fifth birthday, he still spoke his Nativity Play lines clearly and paced himself well so we actually understood what he was saying. No mean feat for a small child!

Afterwards, he got changed and sat down with us to watch the other programmes and was roundly teased by his sister for wearing makeup. When it was the time for Tamil dance drama ‘Meenakshi’, he suddenly burst out laughing! The character Lord Shiva entered the stage and he pointed and went: “that is a girl, Mummy! I saw them practice the other day and was shocked to see two girls getting married. Rather progressive, I thought – then I heard Girl 1 is Shiva! tee hee!”

Kids!

Kiran Manral

Unless you have been living under a virtual rock, you cannot but know that one of our own, blogger and uber Twitterer Kiran Manral, is now a published author and her first book, The Reluctant Detective, is now available in all bookstores. She is doing various book reading sessions across the country – she is at Happy Planet, Powai on 29 January and in Gurgaon on 4 February. She is also planning to come down South to Bangalore and Chennai! Before she starts whizzing around the country, she happily answers a few questions for my readers.

Read on!

First of all, congratulations! How does it feel to see your name on the spine of a book?

The second Kay story is with the editor to decide whether they want to publish it or not. I’m working on a third book which is about a young working girl in Mumbai, living alone. Also in the comic genre. And there’s a dark story about two sisters I have half written which I keep going back to, which no one I’ve shown it to likes, but which I seem compelled to keep writing.

Yes, planning to come to chennai. Dates being finalised.
All the best, Kiran! On behalf of my readers, I’d like to wish you the very best of luck and hope your book becomes a massive success!

I don’t think we have ever been the “Best Frnds 4 Eva” kinda friends. Throughout the years, we have survived growing up and the random shuffling of students that left us alone that we remained in the same class year after year. When her dad, who worked as a bank manager, got transferred in the summer hols after our VIII standard exams, we figured it was the end of things as we knew. I went with my brother to say bye to her, her younger sister and her parents and we promised to remain in touch. Little did we know that we would! We sent proper snail mails to each other regularly, month after month. It was from one of her letters I learnt the expression “in the pink of health”! We met a few times afterwards, when she came down to Chennai to visit her grandparents. Then with email and phone, we continued keeping in touch. When I got married, she travelled down from Bombay just for my reception.

Unfortunately I couldn’t go for her wedding because it was 4 days after the birth of P, in India. She then moved to US, doing a PhD and becoming a professor no less and became a mum – twice over! Throughout, we kept up with each other’s lives and finally, thanks to me living in Chennai now, our hometown and where her folks have retired to, we met each other and our children.

It was priceless, walking into her parents house, her dad telling me I look the same even as he touched my head and silently blessed me. An emotional hug with her mum. A room full of our children. Her parents telling stories from our school days. Pushing our daughters on the swing set even as we jabbered away.

Good times. Oh and as the old saying goes, old surely is gold!

Old Tamil Writing found in the Big Temple, Thanjavur

You know, when it comes down to it, so far my children have been dealing with R2I really well, if I say so myself. Despite being born and having lived abroad for most of their young lives, once transplanted into a totally different culture, they hunkered down and did their best to gel. My son doesn’t balk at using public restrooms anymore, which, in India, can only be described as a triumph! My daughter still does though and turns up her nose but will be brought around slowly.

But there were still some things beyond their scope and when the maternal half of my family decided to go on its annual temple jaunt, I decided that this was the best opportunity for them to have a taste of a life totally different to their own and signed us up. And so, in a mini van, chock full of conservative relatives and puliyodarai, we left on an early morning last week. After stopping at various temples along the way, we stopped for the night at the Andavan Ashram guest house at Oppiliappan Temple, Kumbakonam. The place was much more modern than I remembered, with proper beds and mattresses, attached baths with WCs etc but it was still basic, as per my children. M let out a squeal when I asked her to use the loo! Over the course of the following days, we ate in proper agraharam houses, simple everyday fare, seated on the floor and though my daughter was indignant at getting her dress dirty by sitting on the floor and was frankly horrified at the sight of the roach that peeked out, the response of the lady who served us our breakfast summed it up perfectly – for my son and me. “It is just part of nature, it will let you be if you let it be. What can I do about it, maami?”

The trip was an eye-opener for them and me, as last week, I was wondering why I didn’t fuss overmuch in Auroville. I realised it was for the same reason I didn’t at the Andavan Ashram. You don’t go to such places expecting the Ritz-Carlton. You go for the ethos of the place, for the atmosphere. And sometimes, they come with roaches. But as my children learnt,  just because they all don’t smell of roses, it doesn’t mean you cannot have a jolly good time. They copied their cousin when he did sashtanga namaskaram, learnt to do thoppukaranam, ate off banana leaves, watched various temple festivals, listened open-mouthed to the story of Kal Garudan, walked around centuries old temples and forts, ate prasadam without any salt in it and in short, learnt that you can have a ball just about anywhere.

Enjoyment can be found in the oddest of places, as long as you are open to it.

Sitting on a cannon

But there were couple of things there that made me question myself.

I had booked for rooms for us via their website over a month back but as it is their busiest period, I wasn’t left with very many choices. Especially as I wanted a guest house that was open to families with children. I finally got rooms at New Creation guest house and had requested for “GOOD” category rooms. The one we ended up with had a ways to go before calling itself that. As the room originally allocated to us was being cleaned when we arrived, we chose to go into town and return later. When we did, it was dark and the stairs with no banisters weren’t child friendly. So, when we were offered a downstairs option, we jumped at it.

But you know what they say about looking, before leaping, right? Well, let’s just say we didn’t look hard enough.

The room was pretty basic – quite small with two table fans and the bathroom was seriously meh, festooned with cobwebs and a mirror that was years from its prime. But what took the cake was that once the lights were out, a massive roach came out to play! We’d asked for extra mattress for P but as the main beds were too narrow for me AND the Mint, we swapped beds. As a result, much of the night I spent with my hand on my torchlight, waiting for the roach to party on my face! S was totally put off with our stained and holey sheets and the fact that we had no hot water, and complained to the main guy the next morning. Who was, truth be told, so apologetic about the roach and the stained sheets that he reduced Rs 200 off our bill.He looked so woe begone that I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the second roach that visited us the following day.

Throughout our stay, we both were trying on our best game faces. “It is Auroville, after all, not a fancy resort”, we kept muttering to each other. But what made me question myself is this – had I gone to a non-resort type establishment and booked rooms there, and the rooms turned out sub-par, will I hesitate in complaining to the management and demanding better service or will I just suck it up? How much of our not throwing a hissy fit at the general state of things was awe at the brand that is Auroville? Is it part of the collective unconsciousness of the Indian race that we are on our best behaviour in front of the white man? Would I have been half so easy-going had the manager been Mr Karumuthu and we’d stayed in Hotel Sathguru?

Edited to add: I forgot the best bit – remember the upstairs room we said no to cos of the banisters, the one that was better than the one we stayed in? Guess who got to sleep in there? Our driver! He had asked the guy who handed our keys the way to the restroom and got given the keys to that apartment and told to use the loo in there and bed to sleep, if he wanted! To be fair to the gentlemen in charge, they didn’t slap us with the bill for that room too, though I half-thought they might!

I hope that 2012 marks a turning point in my writing career and I actually WRITE!

A quick recap of what’s been happening my end: my son, despite not liking it very much, has been doing rather well at school. He has been scoring well, did well in his Grade 1 ABRSM violin lessons and passed them, played decent enough football for the coach to tell him to stay back for practice, won a few prizes in various internal competitions and has managed to net a speaking part in his upcoming school play. Not bad eh?But his health had been worrying us in December so we are keeping an eye on him.

His sister, on the other hand, has been breezing through play school. She sings, she dances, she prances, generally has a rollicking time of it – but still makes us go through the “waah I WON’T go to school!” at least twice every week. She needs to be moved to a Big School come June and I am not looking forward to that!

What have you been upto?

It is such a shame that most people on the streets have missed out on learning these magic words at their mother’s knee. It would have made them much better people, I am sure.

Barking seems to be the answer to most queries – my sister-in-law, a foodie with massive interest in eating healthy, almost got her head bitten off when she asked the lady at the local potti kadai (small store) where she sourced her eggs from. Arms akimbo, the lady belligerently got in her face and asked her why in hell she wanted to know and was told to eff off!

Too much anger over a simple question regarding provenance, I thought.

Then there was the time I asked this guy on a bike, who was busy chatting on his mobile phone while blocking my gate completely. I was polite to a fault. Asked him if he could please move his bike out of the way as it was blocking our way in and out of the house. To which he rudely asked, “you coming out now or what? No, no? Then what is your problem?”

Once again, I tried.

“If you could just move your bike to the side then I needn’t walk around you when I do get out of the house. So can you?”

He muttered curses and didn’t even bother to lower his voice as he told his friend on the phone, “Wait, da, there’s this broad here that wants me to move my bike away from her gate as I am standing in her way.”

I ask you, doesn’t it seem absurd in the extreme, to be sworn at when all I did was to politely ask someone not to park in front of my gate and block my driveway, a not unnatural request, surely?

I can write pages about the rudeness of the auto drivers so I will just satisfy myself with narrating one incident. I had hailed an auto one mid-day from a popular shopping area in Chennai and the guy asked Rs 50 more than normal and as I didn’t like his attitude, I said ‘no thanks’ and moved away.

He called me back and bargained for a lesser amount. As I had paid Rs X just two days previously for the same journey, I wasn’t prepared to spend Rs 20 more for no reason so I said ‘no’. Then he called me again and agreed to take me. So I got in. The bugger took the turning before mine from the main connecting road, stopped the vehicle a kilometre from my house and told me to get down and walk it! Said it will teach b!%&hes like me a much-needed lesson. Not satisfied with that, he called the jobless louts wandering around the area and asked them for their opinion!

Now I have travelled by auto in this city for years and there have been many a time when some auto driver disagreed with the money after arriving at the destination and asked for some 10-20 rupees extra. But this level of rudeness was a first! (And hopefully, last!)

I wonder why there are so many disgruntled people about. And no, let us not blame it on rising prices and lack of amenities etc. Petrol needn’t be free for some guy to not be caustic to the person that asks to move his bike out of the way. Innocent banter regarding where she gets her goods need not be an invitation for a shopkeeper to rain abuse on her customer.

So, people, what gives?

With her brand new bike!

We said bye bye to terrible twos yesterday. Yes, the child turned three. For the first time, she and the mama with whom she shares her birthday with were in the same place and time and we made the most of it.

We clubbed the birthdays with a curtain raiser of the new apartments we (us and the mama) will be moving to – food was prepared in mum’s and gran’s houses and transported to our new apartment for lunch. We cut her cake there, relaxed, talked and just sat down, enjoying the lusty sea breeze that blew through the apartment in the afternoon. Then trooped in a group for coffee to my brother’s new place a few streets away.

There we had coffee and yet more cake – his birthday cake, which he cut with his greedy niece’s assistance. After which, the noisy kids were dispatched to the truly awesome park next door while us adults continued our chinwagging sessions. We rounded off the the day’s events by a trip to the beach, which is literally a stone’s throw away and finished off with the temple by the beach.

The Mint is one lucky birthday girl as she got some truly amazing birthday presents – my dad got her (and her brother) some great bicycles so they can get to mama’s house easily; not to be outdone, mum got granddaughter a very pretty pair of gold earrings. Mama and maami got her this truly rocking rocking horse – in pink, of course! She also got some puzzles, new outfits and lots of lovely cash, from the rest of the family.

The true comic moment of the day happened earlier that afternoon while we were preparing to leave the parent’s house to get to mine. As it was hot and my grandparents cannot walk far, we had hired an auto and were busy loading it up. My brother had rung earlier, asking me to stand outside with the keys to my apartment, as he had got something for the birthday girl that he wanted to place in the new house. As I was standing in the agreed spot, my dad and bro’s FIL got bored of sitting around and decided to just walk it and took my keys with them. The phone rang and I was talking to hubby, missing all the action in far away England, and The Mint ran out to grab the phone from me.

Who should whiz past us then by the maami in her Scooty, with the mama at the back, holding this massive PINK rocking horse? She was grinning, he was signing for keys, while I was trying to distract The Mint from catching sight of them while furiously signing that the apartment was open – oh it was hysterical!

The day made sense to my R2I, with the sib and the child enjoying their day together and my dear gran walking around the new apartment, saying “it is beautiful!”

She had last visited me when my son was born nine years back – I had never thought she’d get a passport and visit me in England but she did! I was also doubtful she would ever visit my house again – but I am so glad that she could, so easily too!

As my son rightly summed up, what a difference from the previous birthday party!

I am not exaggerating.

The number of things that need my attention and input have shot up dramatically and as the sole exception to the ‘all women are multi-taskers’ rule, I am struggling. Plus, this temporary single parenting lark is not easy, I tell you, despite having an abundance of people around.

Let me quickly bring you up to speed regarding what I have been up to in the past month.

1. Kids’ schools – P had couple of more exams to deal with. One was a smallish affair but starting today are his Summative Assessments and I am not exaggerating when I say he is scared shitless, poor mutt. He also had some Cyber Olympiad and a trip to a local amusement park, for variation. M’s school, on the other hand, is one long trip. They had a rocking Janmashtami celebration, complete with bhajans and story from ISKON and a handi breaking for all mums!

2. I have been running around the town, trying to find a suitable apartment for us and then getting it kitted out. That process is still happening. And with most of it dependent on flighty vendors who never turn up when they promise to, the process is a long drawn out one.

3. On a major plus, my brother and SIL arrived in town three weeks back, dramatically impacting my social life. Since then, we have been attending Onam sadhyas, weddings, movie shows, even cookery contests with gusto! We even got our mugs on a local paper for our efforts! And, Women’s Web did this lovely feature on me – did any of you read it?

My list of pending items seems never-ending – getting a new violin for P, locating a veena class for me, sorting our holiday (yayy!), getting a phone line, broadband, gas connection and other assorted stuff sorted for the new apartment and actually MOVE. I cannot wait for my holiday to begin – my lovely hosts should be warned that I intend to park butt in their guest room and collapse.

Whatchu been up to, my lovely readers?

Robin, in the prime of his youth

The family’s last male dog, the adorable Golden Retriever Robin, left for the Heavenly Kennels up above on 4/8/11. He was 11 years old.

For more than a decade and a half, my parents have raised dogs, dachshunds mainly. Into this sausage dog land, walked in Robin, the golden boy, as a year old pup. The first of the dogs to enter the fray after I moved to England, he was ‘rescued’ by my dad after he was abandoned by his owners and his new owner, dad’s friend, couldn’t look after him. I still remember the e-mail a cousin sent me: “Appa singa kutti onnu eduthindu vandirukka!” (Translation: Your dad has brought home a lion cub.)

I fully expected it to be true and in mild panic cross-checked with my brother who said the pater had brought in a Golden Retriever – and he was a beauty! I was then sent pictures of him, with his gleaming mane of hair and he most assuredly was gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to see him!

When I finally met him a year later, I found him mildly suspicious of me and P, who was a year old then. He slowly got used to us, though the baby’s attempts at pulling his hair made him hide under the table and growl menacingly. He had the most expressive eye brows I have ever seen in a dog, apart from Gromit. With the merest movement, he will communicate his wants. Towards the end, he could just move his eyebrows wanly a few times.

I have taken him for a fair few walks during my trips home and have always found him stubborn and determined to pull my arms out of the sockets. Every time, we will start the walk, waging a tug-of-war and return in fits of bad temper. He was like a little boy, wanting to sniff here, to wee there and generally, these places coincided with people’s gateways and I used to have the devil’s own time dragging him away.

He was also extremely playful. On one memorable occasion, as my brother returned home late after meeting up with his friends and was ready to hit the sack, our granny, who was staying over, sent up the alarm. Robin has escaped! Wearily, the brother wandered the streets in the dead of the night and Robin led him a wretched dance for almost 30 minutes! Another time, he went missing in the middle of the afternoon. For two hours, the pater walked the nearby streets, shouting ‘ROBIIINNN!’ to no avail. Finally, a gentleman hailed him and took him inside his house, asking quiveringly, ‘is he yours?’

There he was, camped underneath the dining table, his face firmly turned away from his irate owner. True to the Tamil saying, thirandha veetile naai nuzhaiyara maadiri (Translation: Walking into a house like a dog), Robin had sauntered into the strange house and parked his butt under the dining table. The owner of the house, who was quite scared of dogs, tried to cajole him out of his house by giving him some biscuits. Robin calmly ate the lot and refused to budge! The poor man was at his wits end when he heard someone calling out a name, went out to investigate and much to his relief, found the owner of his unexpected guest!

Robin has always been sickly – one of the reasons for his abandonment, we thought. Over the years, his shaggy coat caused him problems during the sticky summer and had to be cropped off, to offer him some relief. He looked more like a shorn sheep, than the Golden Retriever he was! In hot Chennai, the chap would burrow into the cooler ground, trying to cool himself down, and ended up with worms burrowing under his skin, causing him untold pain!

With assorted ills, he became a familiar face at the vet’s. And last week, his kidneys and liver failed, making the end inevitable. Still, the decision to euthanize him, so as to save him from needless pain, was a gut-wrenching process for the mater. After much thought, she wordlessly agreed to do it Wednesday night and blow me if the ol’ boy didn’t rouse himself out of his stupor and show the first signs of life in a week! He raised his head, drank some mouthfuls of energy drink, wagged his tail feebly and totally raised mum’s spirits, who called off the needle.

But after a night of pain, the vet was summoned first thing in the morning to put him out of his misery. And at 14:03 hours, the medicine stopped his heart.

********

I am glad that I arrived when I did and the kids, especially The Mint, spent time with him. For some reason, he saw her as an adversary and would be most annoyed if she was given a plate of food. He’d literally jump up and down and bark his head off till he was given a morsel of the same! One time, this included even pizza! Even before the kids realised, he’d know if I had made eggs for them and would loudly demand his share! He is the only dog I have ever known to relish dosas and mangoes!

It sure feels strange not to have this overgrown teddy bear sleeping in his usual spot.

Goodbye, old boy. You will be sorely missed. Rest in peace – or as much peace as you can manage, lying next to your former arch rival Xeno for eternity!

Robin, towards the end