Remembering my favorite teacher - Sister Edel Mary

• She was my class teacher in ninth grade


• She is a beautiful woman with happy soul.


• She had a beautiful smile like Mona Lisa’s. It’s so hard to interpret her mood because she  gave that Mona Lisa smile even when we behaved badly.


• She taught History.


• She introduced me to Anil Kapoor


• She covered her History book with Anil Kapoor’s posters (I guess from magazine or news paper). She is Anil Kapoor’s fan so I became his fan too.


•  She was a welcome change in our school dominated by unfriendly nuns (mostly Tamil nuns from rural background who tortured happy carefree kids imposing "nun" like rules). I always felt she never belonged there.


• She asked us to learn typing and short hand so it will come handy during our college years. I followed her advice faithfully and passed my typing lower grade mid of  11^th grade year. I attempted my typing higher grade exam after 4 months  but failed. I didn’t practice well due to my half-yearly exams. I was the only one 15-year-old kid, taking the higher grade typing exam in that huge exam hall .I was the youngest student in my institute and hence my teacher’s pet.  I also took short hand –lower grade lessons but discontinued it, when I came to 12^th grade due to tight academic schedule. I had decent knowledge of short hand to take notes .Now  I don't remember anything  .


• She was very entertaining.  I never saw her as a nun but as domesticated women who loved children. She was happy around kids and eager to mentor us in her own undemanding ways. She really influenced my mothering style.


• I watched " Fraggle Rock" for the first time during my ninth grade. She made us watch “Fraggle Rock” once a week during her class hour. That was my first introduction to 3-D animated cartoons . I used to create 3-D model of comic book character(s) out of china clay (aka modeling clay) complete with cardboard castles/building during summer time. Fraggle Rock based projects dominated the summer that year.


• During my college years I forced myself to believe that Sister Edel became a nun because of a broken love affair : ).  She was a vibrant woman who gave up everything in life for the sake of God.


• She died at a younger age (during 1990’s) due health complications arising after a van accident driven by a careless and stupid driver . Even during my schooling years he used to scare the hell out us bye driving the van at high-speed inside our school campus.

 I tried to remember Sister Edel Mary as often as I can , but today I remembered her specially ,when I sang my son’s favorite Anil Kapoor’s dance number “Tak dina din tak dina din .., bom bom bom Bombay mere hai” . 

She was my ideal teacher and no wonder I always wanted to become a pre-KG teacher. I still do.

Happy birthday my sweet little sis

As a seven year old girl, I was overjoyed with the news of your birth. There was nothing special than that.  The memory is so fresh in my mind. My mom told us we will go to leelammas house during quarterly holidays to see you. I was impatiently waiting for that moment. You understood my feeling so well even at that time, hee hee you made us come rushing to you thanks to Skylab episode. We rushed to Chennai ,so we can be together as a family even if something bad happened due to Skylab.  So we called you a Skylab baby.

 When I saw you for the first time, a special bond was formed right then, right there. You had a shiny glass head (little or no  hair unlike most girl babies in our family) with big eyes. Now when I see you drying your long beautiful hair only that glass head comes to my mind.  I begged chitha to put you down on my lap. She did courageously after all I am her first love right? I kept caressing your soft, hairless head for a long time. That was the best week of my life spending every minute with you.

 Even the sheer thought of Chitha and you coming back to our town thrilled me.  You were the soft girl that everybody adored. When I see the softness in NR, I remember you in him. I fed you(your evening snack milk bikis whenever chitha allowed me), I sang to you and entertained you. I used to run to your house during my lunch breaks just to get a glimpse of you. Thank god , Chitha and Chithappa lived closer to my school.

 I remember the morning breeze, the songs from Murugan temple on our way to central bus stand  with so much of excitement in our heart to meet and greet you in the wee hours of the morning. We got the news that you started walking when you were Chennai for a short family visit with Chitha.  I and S akka did not get a wink of sleep the previous night. We were so excited to see you. So we got up early around 4.00am took bath and ventured alone bringing Kamala along with us (hope you remember our neighbor) to central bus stand. I have no idea why my mom allowed us , a thirteen and 8 year old girls accompanied by their 12 year old friend to go alone. Though it’s scary to think of it now, it reminds me of the good old days where you let your kids go every where freely without fear unlike now. And we were used to going to school by ourselves so we went happily. We scanned every passenger getting down from Chennai bus for more than an hour and we did not see you or Chitha getting down from any of the bus. Chitha and Chithappa decided to get down somewhere else but that long walk back home without you was history. We were so sad we didn’t even talk to each other. We returned home with a heavy heart and there you were taking your baby steps on our dining table. You tiny feet adorned with kolusu and the sound it made still bring such joy to my heart. Not even NR’s first steps excited me like that.

 Then you became my shadow following me everywhere like a little puppy. You were a ribbon monster. You stayed with us during weekends. Every Monday we will be searching frantically for the all the black ribbons to wear it to school required by school rules but with vain. Kamala always came to our rescue and we ended up borrowing her black ribbons to school. You owe a big time to Kamala : ).  Following Tuesday or Wednesday we will discover all our black ribbons either tied to towel hidden under the bed or in some random hand bags (you used towel as your false hair and tied plaits using black ribbons and called it your “ chathai (aka Jadai ) or ribbon were tied around books as gift wrappers. I lost my stamp album for almost 6 or seven months and found it with couple of my black ribbon tied to it under pile of books. I still wonder how you managed to hide it there under a heavy stack of books collecting dust. I really wished we had taken a photo of you in your infamous “Chathai” or your Buddha bikshu (monk) costume aka beach towel costume.  We forgot to take a second set of clothes for you during our Marina beach visit and you came home with that costume in the city bus. I love  our family photo with your sweet diana cut hair style ( you were in 4th or 5th grade) and I was wearing a silk saree for the first time .

I am happy that you are the same old loving and affectionate little sister with whom I can share anything and everything. You were my rock during my courtship days . I couldn’t have asked for a best friend like you. Small thoughtful stuff you did for me when I was so scared of unknowns at that time. You made me feel relaxed and happy like playing our fav song in the tape recorder whenever you came to our home from school. 

CB did everything under his sleeve to convince our family which meant taking tuitions for you and S bro so he can come and meet you guys everyday. You and S bro started calling him “Master” and continues to call him so even after 19 years.  He became your best big brother too.

You have a special place in our heart and now very special place in NR’s heart. You rightly call him your son and get so angry at me even if I complain about him a bit. I am at peace knowing that my sister is there to love my son more than me. I felt so happy yesterday, when I you said that you waited so many years to receive a card from your niece ornephew and how grateful we should be for having NR in our lives. I am happy that he brings such joy in your heart like you did for me.

The special prayer from CB’s household is to send a thoughtful, simple, loving person as your partner who is going to respect, love and cherish you like we do. I am praying to god everyday to send that special guy to our family soon. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dream of.

Happy birthday kuttima . Hope this year makes your entire dream come true. Hugs and sweet kisses from us all.  

Love you

C akka.

Tale of weekend plan and wicked smile

Travel is pretty much out of question for us since NR’s birth. So many restrictions when it comes to travel which I cannot discuss here.  The weather in our part is getting to summer like, so we planned to go out for a day trip this weekend. NR decided it’s time for him to celebrate “Fever Fest”.  He was very cranky, unsettled and skipped his nap yesterday. I knew he was coming down with fever and he did with 101 around 3.00am. Panicked parents put ice pack on his forehead along with medication which he spit out royally with a cry which woke the entire neighborhood. Since his febrile seizure episode last September, we are on high alert  with temperature crossing over 100 .We had a long day today with him refusing to take medication  which was worrying us to death.

 The advice nurse asked us to use rectal suppository instead of oral medication. The nurse advised to use KY jelly to make things easy for NR. My dear husband would bury his head down in deepest part earth if he ever knew the real use of   KY jelly. When I unpacked the pharmacy bag, I found the KY Jelly and let a wicked smile. I told him about the exotic real use of KY Jelly : ). Well, I was in the same ignorant boat like CB, until few years back. A female colleague of mine educated me on this stuff when I found this in her bag while searching for a “test phone” she carried for me from our SD office. I wish my mother had discussed about this during the early years of my marriage. OMG, I could avoided so many ouch episode(s). 

 As a new bride so many thoughts crossed my mind . OMG, How can you get pregnant just ten days after your marriage. Is it a legal rape? I really felt sorry for some girls from good families who ran away at a young age (like in high school) with milk man or an auto wallah or some guy from the street.  Stupid, stupid , stupid girls.

My solace, my heaven

This has been my favorite weekend spot for many years.  I never wanted to go home from here. This became my solace especially after NR's birth. I anxiously wait for a chance to visit this place. When I go there, I forget the world. I am in a different world altogether. Can you guess the place?

Well, it’s my library. CB and I spent every weekend afternoon in our library. We are both book-a-holics . I read anything and everything and he is into tech /sports /political stuff only. Our library moved to this new location couple year’s back. This is our favorite walking spot filled with beautiful creeks, ponds and walkways like any English garden .

Our new library has glass walls facing the pond and trails. This is the view I get , sitting inside a comfy sofa in the library.

(Photos taken early fall (last year) using my camera phone. Never expected such good quality photos from it )

After NR’s birth, I get my well deserved "me" time for couple hours every week in our library while papa happily spends his time with his son. I spend 3- 4 hrs weekly reading all my favorite magazines. The first one will always be “Architectural Digest”. The only time I wanted to be filthy rich is when I read “AD”. All those gorgeous mansions/villas on spectacular location kindle the desires for more money.

On the days I take off  or leave early from work, I come to our library with my take out lunch. I sit and eat my lunch in the bench overlooking the pond. After finishing my lunch/evening snack, I usually spend couple of  hours in the library and finish my day taking a long walk with CB.

Who said not having a baby is not fulfilling? hee hee, Now I know whoever said such statements to me all these years, are the people (especially women with kids) who were burning with envy about my happy,care free extended honey moon like life .

Anybody reading this post, who is so depressed about not having a baby (thanks to society and friends) should know they are specially blessed by god .  God loves you so much that he wants you to be happy FOREVER. With baby comes not just the hard work but perennial worrying phase till we die. I don't mind the hard work  and sacrifice at all, but constant worries just stinks.

 

Retort

I’d been interacting with this person (had to no other way) for last three months who provoked my anguish about those people judging others for no apparent reason(s). During our first meeting she casually mentioned about Mexicans coming to this country and not learning English. I was so uncomfortable interacting with her after that .I welcome people taking time to learn a new language. It’s much easier said than done for majority of immigrants working 2  to 3 jobs while maintaining a family life.

 After our first meeting, I knew where she is coming from. She doesn’t know or speak any other language than English (that too Amrikan English). When she does, I am sure she would see people differently. She is one of those people who haven’t travelled much or had opportunities interacting with people from different race/culture/country. Such people live in their own tiny world and expect everybody to have same habits, culture or language like them.  One of my colleague who has MS in computer Science working for a world-famous tech company asked me “Can you get bubble gum in India?.Duh.  I’ve been asked countless times about “What language do you use when you think?. Duh.  I‘ve had many opportunity to meet such people who made my day  look so simple and easy. I can write so many stories for "All in a day's work " segment in Reader’s Digest.

 Even when immigrants speak and write fluent English they are expected  to use American accent. I don’t know if this is the case with any European countries. I would love to hear the stories/events from Indian expats living in European countries about expectation set for them. Are you able to survive with just English or forced to learn the language of the country you live in. I know this  is the case for France since many of CB’s cousins have settled there since seventies.

 I’ve had very similar experience interacting with desi crowd. Every Hindi speaking people expect every single person from India to know Hindi.I can understand Hindi and manage to reply like a 4 yrs old Hindi speaking kid. The same goes for my mother tongue (in literal sense) Malayalam. My poor husband who knows may be ten words in Hindi (ek, do-----Dus and lyrics to “chura liyah” song since his dad listened to it all the time) got harassed  by this Hindi speaking clerk (girl) working in a desi grocery store. In spite of telling her politely (we 've been shopping there for many years) that he doesn’t speak Hindi, she continued to converse in Hindi. She stopped bothering him when he snapped at her in his own cool way by replying in gibberish resembling Hindi. I am sure, he made all non-hindi speaking customers standing the line very proud.

 When you go to a desi gathering and if you spot English speaking people you can blindly say that they are from Tamil Nadu. Tamilians are proud to say that we are not fluent in our language because we took “Hindi, French, German and what not “ as our second language.  My husband belongs to that crowd. He can talk and write in Tamil but not like he is supposed to for his age. He kills Tamil when he writes and don’t understand lot of words and needs me to translate/explain. His mother is a Tamil language teacher with two masters degrees yet failed so miserably to teach her kids her own language. “Teacher pilla makku (Teacher’s kid is stupid) stands good in this case. Thank god, she was not computer science teacher.  If we don’t love and learn our native language who would? And those people who aren’t fluent in their native language lose their right to point out or correct the errors of non-native language writer(s).

 CB once wrote “Malai ” for “mazhai ” and never realised his mistake even after I pointed out. (Malai=> hill , Mazhai=>Rain). I wished instead of mazhai , malai came and hit his Tamil illiterate head.

And now my readers you know the reason for this post where I vent my feeling about his concern for English engliphish.

Code of Silence

My husband broke his vow of silence about my blog. ha ha ha. My husband reads my blog. How do I know?  . He told me while driving us to the Zoo yesterday. Here's how the conversation went. 

CB: < calls my nickname .bluntly comes up with the following statement> You know,  there are so many typos and grammar mistakes in your blog.

CS: emm ,I know.  So you read my blog now.

CB : Not everything  just few posts (which means he is reading everything from top to bottom)

CS: < thinking to myself => argh.........teacher born to a teacher) Why are you telling me now after all these months?

CB: Just like that <End of conversation>

Men. Especially the two men in my life who are always behind my back never allowing me to  think coherently, let alone allowing me to type : (.  If junior is awake he wants computer to himself. When I get time in the night  , I try to type one post once in while  , Senior keeps coming to our office thousand times(feels like million times) announcing that he needs to wake up early the next day and wants me to come and sleep with NR.

I just type everything in a hurry and click “publish” without thinking twice. Whenever I read my old post I keep wondering if I authored that post. Sometimes, I correct the mistake. Most of the time, I don't. 

And my husband aka my ex-classmate knows my skills in english. I helped him write his 50 page project report and finished typing it in an hour . I changed for good reason. My current writing style earned us damn good money : ) .

Several years of writing encrypted and strictly bulleted official emails, high level tech doc, help and user guide I totally forgot my good English.  I was forced to change my writing style due to constant complains during my reviews that I write detailed emails.  I changed for good and made lot of people happy. I got rave reviews on the internal tech how to guides that I authored for these tools  .

Looking at all the tools brings nostalgic memories of my busy work life and constant releases that I worked back to back.  I was the only one from my team who worked on all the tools. Most of the time  I worked alone or did all the ground work for creating the spec for the project from encrypted high level marketing docs. When I went on medical leave my Mgr told me “I dunno what we are going to do without you". BTW, this is person who constantly complained about my emails because it took time to get the details from my mail. duh !.  Writing bulleted emails (using typical email slangs breaking all rules of good writing)with color code (yes I had to color code sentences for my mgr to find issues we had on projects) made life easy and peaceful.

Well, this blog is not my English paper. I cared enough about English language while studying; I scored 93 out of 100 in tenth board exams thanks to a tyrant English teacher. I’m not that naïve girl who fretted and felt so awkward/ashamed of myself ,  when my Professor (my Ph.D guide who set the entrance exam paper) remarked about my wrong usage of apostrophe in my paper. The paper that I wrote for three hour exam was about one topic chosen by my guide from hundreds of topics I covered in my graduate course(s). I was a new bride, working full time in Chennai. I had an UG degree in science, Master's in Public Administration and Business Administration and worked for a Software company . I prepared for my Ph.d entrance (Pursued Ph.d  in organisational behaviour) like crazy girl among my hectic schedule (preparing three hot meals for us while working for a new software startup with loads of work). 

I was a silly girl worrying about some silly writing mistake without thinking about my hard work and perseverance to earn a Ph.D .  

I am mature enough to see the bigger picture clearly now without fretting about small things in life. This is my blog and I care less about breaking the rules of writing: : ) . Well, I am not professional writer AND THIS IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE. Even today I write extremely well in my native language.  Well, how many Indians in India will be able to say that ?.  Sadly, caring about foreign language, culture and lifestyle is  cool and hip  for people who care less about their language.

Reading this blog after 10 yrs will bring back the memories of events that took place and only that matters to me. 

PS: CB came /called out for me alteast 6 times while typing this post. This is my current life where typos, grammar, dirt, puke, bad odor does nothing to me : ).

I love my neighbourhood.

We live across the golf course community. My neighbourhood is a well-maintained one compared to others nearby. It has miles of walking paths (both on the roads and nature walk trails) along with well maintained park(s) area. It is safe to take a walk alone in the nights too. Just a few minutes drive from our home we have this huge trekking area(wilderness)  in the west hills /sky view area.

NR loves summer . He goes for a long walk with his dad every evening and spend an hour in the park . CB usually take him along the main roads so he can spot many cars in the busy evening traffic.

 

Photos taken with my phone camera during 2009  summer/fall. I wasn't able to download the photos from my phone using the normal USB cable . Thanks to my busy life as mom to a two old year, I never took time to investigate. I had  to download photos during my brother's trip.

I stayed late one night and researched it on web and found that I needed to buy the special software or hardware to download photos from Motorola phones .I know it sucks , and why do they expect the users to spend more money on USB software . Stupid, stupid, stupid marketing idea). Thanks to this guy , I added myself as the MOTO app developer and I got the free download of USB software . Sweet )