A dad is born... Again

Life has come a full circle in a short span of 5 years (boy it does seem a long time) when I got married to Paddu, whom I came to knowing only after the marriage was fixed (typical Indian style) and we had no definitive detailed plans of the future. The first transformation in our lives was when I was reborn as a dad (please read the first "a dad is born") and four years later I am born again as a dad. I thought that things would be different this time now that I have experience. But always the Universe conspired against me to make me happy in its own way. The waiting filled the time for the last few days. In anticipation of our second child, I finally stopped procrastinating and bought a car without knowing how to drive it. so off to car driving school to fill that competency gap. Then in the last month of pregnancy, I drop Paddu, my best half and

Prataparudhra, the apple of my eye at her mother's home in Mumbai while I stayed put in Pune. Please trust me this was her decision. I did not decide that. I fought that decision of hers, but like always she could win me over with impeccable logic-tis warmer in Mumbai during the winter months. My son is excited that he would get a baby brother(Could not understand why not sister?). Maire my colleague and friend wagers that because of all my sins in this birth, I will be blessed with another boy who will also make me dance to his tunes. The good doctor advices Caesarian again. But this time we have the luxury of deciding dates and this was a bad luxury as it turned out since the universe again conspired to rip apart our perfect plan for a birth on a perfect date (by the alignment of stars and planets). The doctor could not fit on said date and gave us 7th Jan 2012 as an option. By this time I had enough of star, planetary alignment from every other quack-anstronomers and their dog that I said YES. 7th is good. So  drive  down to Mumbai on my classic 500. You can start sniggering. The ass has a car and he went by motorcycle. You see sniggering people, this was a reconnaissance trip to learn the route from my home to my in-laws' home and Mumbai being what it is, a mayhem of people, I ventured to go by bike. I get my Paddu admitted in hospital and Through the evening and into the night I kept reassuring my son that Mamma is alright, she will be coming home soon, you will be taking care of the new baby and all the bullshit. I guess he realized that too because he said, take me with you to the hospital and promptly went to sleep. Then dawn came rosy cheeked and awoke me. I get ready and go to the hospital and wait for the doc.

1. The anesthesiologist comes 

2. The doctor comes.

3. my best half is rolled into the OT

4. The door is shut on my face. The good doctor refuses to let me stand

in the OT and after some time the pediatrician goes into the OT.

5. I grab 40 winks when I hear a new born baby's banshee scream

6. I run to the OT door waiting expectantly with my in-laws thinking the door would open now and I will get a bundle of joy in my hands.

7. Bloody universe still conspiring.

8. Not knowing what to do, I start to bang my head rhythmically on the door hoping then at least some on will take notice that people are awaiting, but none of this could melt their heart of stone.

9. All this time I could hear the baby screaming and screaming.

10. 50 Minutes later, the door opens and a nurse comes out to say - pay the anesthesiologist. I draw my last reserves of patience and ask in a rising crescendo how is the mother, how is the baby. Is it a boy or girl? Thank you very much. 

11. The good anesthesiologist comes out and tells us- baby girl, mom and baby are fine. We have a princess. We have a princess. Prataparudhra would be disappointed, but he would come over it.

After the euphoria settled, I went in search of the nurse who was the target of my anger and apologized, the arrival of my princess will not be marred by anger and hard feelings. The pediatrician comes to us gives us the baby stats. I thank her profusely and look at her expectantly like a little boy standing in the line for candy. She sees me and tells me to go in and pick my princess. I did not need to be told again. I ran in and took the little bundle which packs a whopping amount of joy and she yawned, she yawned in my hands. That did it and the dam broke and I let the tears of joy flow. Flow I said, na they were running like the godavari and krishna rivers and would not stop.My in laws were now used to seeing me with my eyes running rivers. I put her gently on the bed and kept staring at her. She opened her eyes, saw me(:P saw me) and went back to sleep again. I crooned some thing to her, tucked her wrap around her as she slept

This is not exactly the best of a post rather it is just rambling running thoughts that are still running through my mind.
So what will we name her -
This time my paddu did not let me choose names from History, so I turned to faith and belief in the hindu pantheon of goddesses and came up with two names; one starting with K and the other with T. We ran into a disagreement with regards to the name and so we are doing a blind voting  with the members of the family. Dear reader, I will come up with the name which won through the voting. 


8Th jan 2012:
the voting results are out. "T" won hands down. The universe conspired against us to make us happy yet again. So what is the name we chos? This is my blog and I will script it out my way. I looked at history again to give me a name for my princess and a princess needs a queenly name, but paddu stumps me and says "why not a godly name" so I fall back on my second object of intense reading, Ancient Indian thought and philosophy. This sphere of reading took me not just through Indian philosophy, but also Tibetan and Mahayana philosophy. I felt that since my super god is Lord Rudhra after whom I named my Son, I will name my daughter after my super godess, the MOTHER. By this time I had read Aghora by Dr. Svaboda quite a few times and two names stuck out as a strong affliation to the great MOTHER- Kundalini and Tara. The voting decided Tara as the name. The goddess Chinna Mastha Smashana Tara is the great mother who directs the soul towards moksha or oneness with GOD. So my princess will henceforth be called Tara after the great MOTHER.


Cheers

Much ado about Coffee

Yesterday's Sunday eye of the Indian Express carried an article about Tea where the author boasted that coffee is just to pass the time where as tea is a culture or something like that. My first reaction as a tam brahm (Tamil Brahmin) was indignation and then a ruthless articulation "what would a northerner know about Coffee". But then again I thought over my words and pitied me over my indignation. The author was right about how I make tea. Just pile on everything and bring to a boil, strain and pour out in cups. I thank you sir for helping me know my ignorance in making tea. But when coming to making coffee, that for me is religion. Lovingly wash the filter (not your electrical contraption), a simple stainless steel affair which resembles a mini grain silo. Heat the strainer gently to clear the holes, dole out coffee powder measured to the last grain and tamp it gently. pour boiling water into it and let it drain through the filter. That my dear friends is how my day starts. My God in his pooja room has to wait till I finish this ritual first (I found god even in coffee, so that he could not complain). The next step in making coffee is pouring milk and sugar. How much milk and how much sugar. well that depends on how much coffee you would want to drink My first tumpler of the day is 200ML (Yes I measured it). Pour a little decoction/dikashan) from the filter (it should be still warm), taste a little (should taste like dark choclate, not dairy maik). Pour milk and the liquid mixture should turn from sepia to a shade darker than beige. Add sugar (not to make it sticky sweet). The flavor of coffee is bitter-sweet not sweet-very sweet-sticky sweet. Then add a little more decoction to bring the color to a shade of brown which resembles dark and white chocolate mixed in equal ratio. Mind you please use fresh hot milk not reheated milk. The contraption in my office dispenses this need, the milk is just plain dispensed. Pour it out in a broad tumbler, pick up the newspaper and over to my study where I spend half hour with coffee and newspaper. I would have enjoyed a smoke along with that but wifey dear had ensured that I never smoked at home (thankful for that injunction) and I also quit smoking. The thing about the first tumbler of coffee for me is the cool air around me, the very bitter-less sweet taste of coffee takes me to the seventh heaven riding on the ninth cloud, breathing in the quintessence of coffee. During the time I spend with my morning coffee, I am left undisturbed my son and wife. After marriage my best half understood my love for coffee and undertook to make my morning coffee. She like the author in Sunday Eye was a tea aficionado and was not particularly interested in coffee.In the beginning I was ungratefully critical of the output, but she put in patient effort to make it right every day and every time. Looking back I regret all the criticism I heaped on her earlier efforts . She now makes excellent coffee which I cannot find fault with. I was gifted an electrical percolator for our wedding which I use for mixing with my favorite poison - dark rum. But my morning coffee will never be insulted by being made in this contraption. I have drunk coffee at establishments like cafe coffee day, Costa, Barista and such. They can brew different coffee from aroun the world but still they would be fish out of water if they attempt a tam brahm coffee. For me they cannot and will not be able to match the exacting standards of Saravana Bhavan in Chennai or the erstwhile Gayatri hotel (Sob sob sob) in Hyderabad or Bombay Anand Bhavan in Secunderabad when it comes to making a tam brahm coffee.

Recommendations

Movie with coffee: Jim jarmusch's coffee and cigarettes

Book with Coffee: R K Narayan's Dateless diary especially the section which covers black and white (humph!) coffee

Liquor with coffee: Dark Rum (Old monk and especially contessa)

Pondering with Coffee: Don't ponder. Enjoy the quintessences of coffee

Music with coffee: Vivaldi's Four seasons. 

Best Company to spend coffee time: Who else but the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life.

Coffee powder to water ration: 3 tbsps coffee tamped and pour 150-200 ml of boiling water in the filter. If the decoction has not strained in 15-20 minutes. you have tamped too hard. poke with a fork gently so as to not distrub the coffee and water standing in the filter.

NOTE: I am grateful to the Muslim saint bababuden ( I am not sure of the spelling, so please forgive my ignorance) for bringing coffee to India and my parents for starting me on coffee when I was quite young.

The day I almost met the Dalai Lama

A couple of days back I was watching two day old episodes of the food series - Master Chef Australia when lo and behold, I get to see the Dalai Lama which made me nostalgic and reminiscence about the past.  

Tis was 1997 and I was just out of college, job less, self-respect had reached the nadir, my worth in societal eyes was zero and I learnt from The Hindu that the Dalai Lama would be coming to Hyderabad for the installation of the massive Buddha statue.It later transpired that he did not consecrate the statue (that happened much later in this post). I read about the Dalai Lama a few day earlier in the Reader's Digest magazine and was much impressed by his fight against the Chinese. He is also one of the reasons why I have some respect for Nehru. When the Dalai Lama rode into India, Nehru gave him sanctuary much against the political wisdom of those times. Some say this act of Nehru ensured the Sino-India war actually took place. I have neither the information nor the bias to say anything about that war. Anyway back to the Dalai Lama. I wanted to see the Dalai Lama when he came to Hyderabad. Now to do that I needed some transport money and hence went to ask my amma and she ticked me off with a good word lashing. Any way, I managed to sneak out old newspapers, sold them for the fare and went to see the Dalai Lama. Murphy ensured that "everything goes wrong". I took the wrong bus, went to the wrong place and trudged 4 Kms to see the Dalai lama and by the time I reached the venue, the Dalai Lama had left. On the journey back home, disappointed and weary with thirst, I pondered on why I wanted to see him. What did I hope to achieve. I still am pondering. Fast forward to 2nd January 2006, the Dalai Lama was going to consecrate the Buddha statue. This time I was not in hell's hole. I was earning comfortably and was the master of my ship. I booked myself on a bus from Pune to Hyderabad on 30th December 2005, put an action plan to meet the seer and was quite happy with  the thought that I was going to meet the Dalai Lama. On D-Day I left home early (my mom didn't bother asking where was I off to) so that I could grab a good place. Reaching the venue, I noticed it was filled with people, careful probing and questioning revealed that most of them were "babus" who were to ensure that protocol was not breached. Whose protocol I still am not sure. Anyway I sat myself down and waited, waited, waited and then I got a glimpse of the seer. I tried to nudge closer but the security personnel ensured that I did not breach protocol. I moved slightly away, managed to get closer to the cordon, close enough to touch him and waited with abated breath. Then I managed to go into a time warp and ponder "why am I doing this?". I finally got out of the warp with the realization that it was just a whim. By the time the warp closed, the Dalai Lama was on the boat going towards the statue. 

Back to 2011 and Master chef Australia. The cooking was good, The seer did exactly as seers do-bless everyone and everything and I am still pondering why did I want to meet the Dalai Lama

Anthology of two wheels

I belong to an age where possesing a cycle was a sign of prosperity. Back then to be called really rich  - one had to posses a car; one of the two models, the aunty (Ambassador) or the kid (Premier padmini). Two wheelers were a rarity on the roads and then again most of them were either a 50cc affair or a bajaj scooter. Appa then bought a 50cc affair called the TVS50 XL model.                          

TVS is to South india what Bajaj was for the north of the Godavari river. Looking at the image today I wonder how the four of fit on to it and zoomed around. Time flowed and appa bought me a bicycle - not your fancy multi-geared multi colored contraption. A simple device which took me from point A to point B. Through junior college and sometime after I was pedalling away or sometimes to save energy held onto locking chains hanging from the rear of any truck or turn goofy and hold a friends hand who was riding pillion on a scooter. Race against smoke spewing buses (if you don't want the smoke in your face, you have to rush past) 

                                 

Children today would look at this and exclaim - "But this has nothing in it to provide an experience". I dont want to sound a reverse snob, but in our times we defined experience by our effort and not dictated by a contraption. Hummpppphhhh!!!. Signs of modernity I suppose. The mills of the gods grind at a very slow pace and appa procured through Jugaad a Bajaj Scooter. Rahul Bajaj supposedly grinned at slow pace of production and arrogantly exclaimed that the people of India will wait for their scooter. I have been assured many times that this is an urban legend. You dear reader can decide what to believe. I care two toots my bike horn. 

The people@SAS R&D INDIA PVT LTD - secunda parte- DRINKING binges

Where were we. Oh! yes staying drunk. Folks do you remember the binge we had at Partha's place before he was to join the Cary office??? Wasn't that a blast. God I miss those kinds of binges. Then the different bachelor's party starting with No Beginning, no end fella- Anantha's. We went with something else in mind and reached a place in Pune camp(don't know why it is named so. Pune has many quirky names). This place; the ambience was bad, the liquor was good and the prices sky high and since Anantha was footing the bill, why would we care. By the time we split for the night, we were drunk for good and there was no need for "one for the road". Boy those were the days. After that binge, the team broke apart and we moved to Sakar place. Now here is where I went on many binges starting with my bachelor's party. Boy that party was a blast where we only drank, shouted hoarse and thankfully did not break anything. Venue was Sigri and as usual we always leave late. Chirag ali come along a lot later. I still don't know if he was already drunk by the time he came or he was play-acting. Sample this... Chirag comes and asks the steward to turn on the lights and poor chap he does that but the light points away from us.  Chirag immediately turns on him and asks him "Kya dikhara re". Light is taraf kar. Tu bhi piya hua hai kya?". Anyway John schemes with the others and presents me a gift. If you know John, you would know what was the gift he zeroed in on. On seeing the package I knew instantly what it was - yes, a pictographic Kamasutra edition. "Ass**** (&()&^%^*($#$&@". Mahesh and usman ali wouldn't drink as usual. John completes his two-pegs, Anup and me and Partha (after three he is at his hysterical best) go on and on and on, so much so I could not know if I was sitting on the table or the chair. The banter I don't remember much, but it revolved around and around only one topic - How did I meet my fiance, how did I woo her with a lot of details of minutae thrown in  . The bhadakaus around me would not relent in their persisting with questioning me. I am sure even my wife did not ask me so much. Sample this
John: Why do you like her?
Me: Because she chose me.
Partha: Kya! sharm kar (followed by a hysterical laugh)
Chirag: Typical laughter mixed with "Ladki tu hai ki who". Tujhe pasand karna hai, usko nahin. Tu aur ek peg peele. 
Mahesh: Twirling a straw in his mocktail (he has been licking the rim for an hour now)
Usman: Snapping photos from somewhere
John: Abhe saale, seeda seeda bol kyon pasand kiya. Aaltu phaltu jawab mat de(trying to imitate Sanjay Dutt in vastav) 
Me: Nahin bolta ja (at my worst petulant imitation)
Everybody together: ye kya baat hai, Tu aisa bolega to bhi ham nahin chodenge, tujhe batana padega, Hum log kay idar hilane ke liye aay kya and then started all the drunk gaalis. 
So I relented and told them a few incidents just to keep them happy. God I miss those days.
After that more binges followed, some at Khyber(speciality is you can drink as much as you want, but you will have no after effects. Saala chadta hi nahi), some at Kapila, chuck wagon (now closed) and lots of other places. The topics would range from cribbing about work-place, pulling legs; always Seetha would be the prime target for this. The drinking gang would roughly be the same. The rest were all visitors. Navin's Bachelor's party was a thing to remember - the bill shot through the roof and we had to chip in to alleviate the pain. Navin do you still carry your schooling certifcates in the car instead of the vehicle documents?? He he ehe ehe he eh ehe eh e

This picture is taken when we were drinking and shouting hoarse on the night when India one the first T20 cup - read more at T20 Champs


Wish there were more such pictures




KEEP DRINKING Fellas - 

Dadhood and how- handling child's ill health

I am going to start this post with a rant against GOD. Why did you create illness along with angels? Why for God's  sake why? When my son becomes ill, I am not sure who is affected more; him or us, his  parents. Why GOD why? Were it not suffice you that we appreciate the beauty of your creations as is? Why? why? why?

I am not sure if I am not able to handle my child's ill health or does his ill-health disable me. I become so disoriented and lost that nothing gets done by me and even if I try I make a mess. But I learnt something in this ordeal - "You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance and how much patience I can reap more". I proudly acknowledge that I have become more patient with him. When he was ill and blasted duty beckoned to me every morning, I was torn apart and wished I could be at both places at the same time. I am reminded of Golda meir - "At work, you think of the children you have left at home. At home, you think of the work you've left unfinished. Such a struggle is unleashed within yourself. Your heart is rent". A struggle which I much desire to leave, but alas cannot.  During his ill-health days. Anxiety is your friend and does not leave your side-couple my anxiety with my wife's and I have many ill-friends at that moment. The day is spent with ministering medicines and watch him scowl first and then bawl with dislike due to the taste. Further anxiety since his appetite is ruined with the medicine intake and feeding him is a session in pain and sound. Pain because I have to force feed him, sound because he bawls with every mouthful. After a couple of bites he does not want more and spits out stuff pushed in. You collect that, keep it aside and try with another morsel. Keep repeating it till the discarded pile is big enough to frustrate you. Why God why? I keep looking forward to his being better again driving me mad with his cyclonic destruction of peace and order. Blessed indeed am I that when I reach home, Prataprudhra beams me a smile, reaches for me desiring me to pick him up and gives me his cheek to kiss.

Give a little to love a child, and you get a great deal back

Dadhood and how - Managing my son

As a father I soon realized that taking care of my son is not so easy matter after all. Doing it helped me understand how Padma, my wife abstract it from me day in day out. My hats of to every mother out there who does the same and to every dad who manages to do it. My son is a cuddly tyke and cyclone mingled into one. A week ago my wife took to the sick bed and what with the swine flu scare in Pune and the rains playing havoc with my son. He took to common cold. The ten days she was recovering from illness I was pinned at home. No working from home either. It was taking care of wife and kid. Those ten days showed me what housekeeping is with a cyclone in your midst. I admit I failed miserably in the attempt. All ten days i was feeling something or the other beneath my feet - biscuits, water, dosa, bread, grains, vessels, toys, clothes and lot more knick knacks. Cleaning will ensure that you only get more. I thought selling cigarettes, bar tending was back breaking work but actually they are nothing compared to taking care of your son. Oof! my back still hurts with the cleaning, picking up things, stopping him from throwing things out of the balcony. A few days back he threw a new bottle of oil out and I could only helplessly watch it fall and break; thankfully not on anybody's head. I did not know his timetable and wifey dear was out of commission to help me out and so it was all trial and error. Early morning milk ,10 AM breakfast cereal or cerelac, 1 PM lunch (typical south Indian) 4 PM - fruit, 6 PM evening milk, 9:00 PM - dinner only chappati (unleavened bread) mind you and nothing else. 11 PM bed time milk. For all these things you have to sit with him. Especially feeding him solids - he will take a bite and start goofing about, try to catch him, he skips and gives you a sly smile. Get hold of him it is all shrill thunder tearing my ears asunder. At bath time, it is a pleasure to watch him play with water and a frustration to get him away from the secrets inside the commode. But all of these frustrations vanish when he sleeps in your arms and when there is a draught blowing in, he curls and snuggles in my arms, I can only let the dam break and tears fall on their own. Tears of happiness.
He is yet to start talking and my wife is worried that he might have a talking problem or a listening problem, but I know (and I also know that I can never convince my wife) that he is alright because he responds to me quite well. He throws liquid down, I ask him to mop it up and he goes to the laundry, gets the mop cloth and mops the floor (not properly though). Before marriage I thought I had a theory about bringing up our child, after marriage, I have a child and no theory at all. I realise that raising kids by theories and philosophies is a big mistake.
Once Padma complained that Arudhra ignores her and I remembered Ogden Nash's opinion "Children aren't happy with nothing to ignore, And that's what parents were created for" (Parents, 1933). When I dared mention it to her, all I got in return was being transparent to her for some time. In these ten days I was exasperated by him often but once I could take it no more and I gave him a rap on his bum with my palm. Boy did it hurt (me I mean to do it). The guilt haunts the living daylights out of me. Next time and everytime I am inclined to raise my hand again on him I will remember this quote "Never raise your hands to your kids. It will leave your groin unprotected". It pays for you to remember the same.