What's left is memories

I wrote this when I lost our daughter in 2001. She was only 34, and left two lovely little girls aged 6 and
 2 1/2....

It always happens to someone else or so you think. The tragedy of death. You commiserate with those who face the irreparable loss and your heart is squeezed. Nevertheless somewhere inside is the relief that it had not happened to you, and you float on the feeling of being forever protected. Alas no one is really protected from life’s strange vicissitudes….

Without warning, in one fell swoop, the inexorable axe of death separates you from the one you love more than life itself. A slow numbness spreads starting from your brain to the rest of your body. In an incomprehensible waking dream , you are as it were, insulated from reality. You go through the motions mechanically, the last rituals, looking at the stream of people, coming over to condole you, and you listen to clichés which you expect they will mouth, and staring at them with disbelief when they don’t.  “ You have to be brave,”  “Time is the best healer.” “ If there is anything you need we are there for you.”

One part of you is touched by their kindness and caring. Another part screams hurt when people lack sensitivity. When they ask probing questions. What  really happened? How did you let her go? You who are educated and know so much? Couldn’t  the medical care have been better? How is so and so taking it? It is the Indian way of showing concern. You cannot blame them. They all mean well, every single one of them.

Every single detail that led to the ultimate end is etched so finely in your mind. What you talked about. The dreams and the future. The smiles and the tears. How you tried to keep the visitors at bay. How they would sneak into the ICU for a seemingly last look. How your insides burned to have them view the spectacle of your loved one with tubes all over her body. Did it provide them satisfaction to have a look? Was it the sight that they hankered for?  “Well meaning” relatives who had the “right” to look in, could never be put off, however much you pleaded for privacy.  However much you pleaded that in the battle for life she be left with some shreds of dignity.

Shock and disbelief surge through your being, when you are told she is gone. You can’t even cry, because it did not happen. Someone else is laid out, someone else is cremated, the loved one is there in another room, sure to come out smiling, and soon…people come in droves or so it seems.

No room  is large enough. Did one really know so many people, or are they all strangers, acting out a part in a movie? You cringe as the blackness takes over. There is no day or no night. They silently file past, and say the right things to you, as you hang your head, ashamed for being alive, for being hungry, for wanting to sleep and to go through all the motions  of life in a search for normalcy.

You freeze as they wrest the physical body from your tender clasp, and agonise to hear that her ashes are scattered over the holy rivers, into water she was always a part of, into the outdoors where she really belonged. You search desperately for her astral body. And then you break down. Your cry from the depths of your soul is never heard. Because it is soundless. Enough, enough, please don’t speak to me, let me lay my head down, let me die, let me go.

Never mind if you go in and out of hospital. You need to get back into the mainstream of life for the living. The dead are gone, it is a tribute to the living to help them get on with their lives. The  living need you. Please hang in there. Look at so and so. Her tragedy is worse than yours she how she manages. I couldn’t care less about so and so. Your grief is unique to you and you alone, and it is your pain that you care about.  How you will address it, how you will work your way through it.  Why me? You ask yourself. Why not you? Pat comes the answer. Look  around you. People have lost their entire families. What about the earthquake in Bhuj so recent? How about 9/11?

And then start the sleepless nights. If only, you tell yourself, she were here. If only we had done this. If only we had done that. If only we were there early enough. The saddest two words and the most painful…”if only”. Regret, bitterness and guilt. The emotions cascade over you like waves. Grief stabs your body in hot pain. The dam bursts. You cry till you have no tears to shed. You go through desolation and black depression. You cannot focus on things which were dear to you just months ago.

Nothing matters anymore. There is no meaning to life. You go through the motions of daily living with mechanical rigidity. The spark of life which people found so attractive to you has gone maybe forever. You lose interest in the home, in how you look or how you dress. The long line of visitors dwindle, and there is a strange emptiness, for they too have been part of your daily routine. You are finally left alone with your thoughts, and your desolation and you plod one, wondering if there is any light at the end of the tunnel.

Somewhere out of the blue you hear a voice, “ I am just here with you, though you cannot see me. I love you and want you to carry on as you always have. I am watching over you…..” You hear it again and again. The tide turns. You see the familiar smile, the mannerisms and her voice in the children, and you know it is a miracle, and it is a message from her….Petal fresh memories linger with their own brand of fragrance, of happy times. You learn to shape your lips into a smile.

Before you realize it you are looking at the first anniversary. Friends and loved ones call, write or visit you, to say they remember. Flowers fill the house. You cry unabashedly at every single memory that unfolds. Anything triggers it… a particular piece of music, a smell or evern a colour. You lean heavily on people who have been there for you, consistently, through the year. Those who have nurtured you,  tenderly, helping you hold your head aloft, motivating you  to live and not sink into abysmal gloom.

After the enormous tidal wave, calm sets in, very slowly. Not an uneasy calm but a resigned peace thanks to meditation, the solace of spirituality and submission to the inevitable. Knowing that your loved one was halted at a time when she was beautiful, robust with health and youth, and realizing she will be so eternally, at least in your memory. A calm is born out of knowledge that she is at peace and that her karma in this life is fulfilled and that she responded to a higher calling. Knowing that she is there for you , to be summoned at will, and that she continues to live in her children and the ones who loved her. The voice sounds again, this time more gentle, more persuasive.

“Move on, as you always have. Don’t let this stop you. I am there if you have eyes to see. Look upon this as one more challenge met, one more lesson to be learnt. Look after the family I have left behind. Love them as you loved me. They are in your trust. Move on…..amma.”

And yes, you move on. But you wipe your tears first, as otherwise your path is blurred.

Givers and Takers

GIVERS AND TAKERS

There is a nip in the air, as I write this, a great Chennai experience… imagine dipping to 19 degrees at night!! It reminds us that we are into the “ winter” season.. Despite  the cheer it is a long run of heavy expenses, buying sweets, clothes, household gadgets what with the offer of great discounts and the buying of gifts for loved ones, from the very top of the rung to those right at the bottom, not forgetting the annual bonuses for our workers. Which brings me to the topic of the month!

Gift giving has been a staple of human society for centuries. Tribal leaders would give one another gifts in exchange for peace, protection and food. The Romans exchanged gifts during  celebrations held during the Winter Solstice which was on  January 1st. The gifts were originally evergreen branches, and later they moved to cakes, to symbolize prosperity and sweetness in the coming year.

The culture of gift giving was so different at one time. When we were invited for dinner or lunch we would just go along, enjoy the meal and return satiated. Likewise when we returned the gesture we welcomed our friends or relatives and laid out sumptuous fare. Alas, the unwritten law today is that you cannot  make a casual visit to a person’s home without taking some gift in the form of sweets, fruit or some  token. When I make a note in my diary of the date of an invitation  I put in a reminder note for buying “something” to take along. like edibles. Edibles meant something overly sweet, but the more prudent of folks today, assailed by threats of diabetes, cardiac diseases, hypertension or high cholesterol, now sensibly bring fruit, or nuts which are clearly more welcome.

We live in an era of excesses. When I encountered what my children faced in sending their kids off to birthday parties I was  appalled. The gifts were as expensive as the wedding gifts we bought for a bridal couple. As if this was not enough the persons who hosted these parties had to dole out return gifts to each of the little invitees and they had to be of a certain accepted standard. This kind of barter leaves me cold. We did give small take home gifts at the parties we held for our children, but they were just tokens and not necessarily high value items. We shopped excitedly for pencil boxes,   hair clips, crayons,  small note pads etc. My son-in-law thoughtfully gave as return gifts, small potted plants, and for the next birthday the return gifts he arranged for were a few fish in a small glass bowl. I wonder how much these unusual gifts were appreciated, and whether the plants or the fish were tended to lovingly, or just dumped.

We as children treasured the few things our parents gave us and preserved them for years. Nowadays children have so much of everything that it is difficult to decide what they would like so it’s best to give them cash. We attend innumerable weddings and unless the family is very close to us, giving a present is meaningless,  lost as it would be in the sea of gifts and not really appreciated. I have seen huge bouquets of expensive flowers dumped in the wedding hall for takers! I admire the couples who request in their invitation that donations instead of gifts are welcome for a specified charity.

One good idea is giving of coupons from a favourite shop.Instead of throwing lavish parties for ones birthday it makes sense to contribute money to the underprivileged or buying food for the destitute children or adults. It gives more satisfaction than anything else.

Gifting has lost its meaning. Come birthdays and you receive such personal gifts which are rarely  to your taste. Face creams which you would not use, artifacts for your home when you have no place to put in a pin, saris you would not be seen dead in, handbags which you consider flashy, a box of expensive chocolates when you are planning to diet…the list is endless. People are becoming smart and have learnt the art of recycling unwanted gifts. So have I. I have a shelf full of these things. Someone’s birthday was coming up and we were invited at the last minute. I opened my gift shelf and found something which the lady would use and it went well with her personality.  In a very magnanimous flourish  as it was an expensive thingy, I handed it over telling her that she would love it. She opened the gift in my presence, and exclaimed with such vehemence,  “My dear, it is the same thing that I gave for your birthday six months ago!”

To avoid such acute embarrassment you have to learn to be more organized. Label everything, as to who gave what, and for what occasion. Date it, as everything has an expiry date. And for God’s sake if the gift is mere junk, just trash it and don’t ever think of recycling otherwise your reputation is at stake.

A Miracle at Krishnagiri

Do you believe in miracles? Or the power of prayer? I do. I also believe in good vibrations and thoughts and positive thinking which wards off ill effects even though we might not be able to vanquish them entirely. Before you think this is going to be a treatise on “how to live your life”, let me tell you a small story to illustrate my belief…

My husband is a bridge enthusiast, and playing bridge at Gymkhana Club is a passion with him. Every year he garners other bridge buddies and goes on a short trip to Coonoor where bridge tournaments are held. This year it was no different. My husband along with Major Lakshman also a Gym Club member and three other friends decided to hit the road early morning.  Call it intuition, or what, my husband was bugged with my questions. Who will drive the car?  Is he a good driver? Is he used to hill driving? Call me from time to time! Thinking it was rather unusual of me to ply him with queries, he just brushed them  aside with his usual broad smile and the men set out on the journey like excited school boys. I kept praying off and on that they should be safe as I could not dispense with the strange uneasiness that I usually did not feel.

The Krishnagiri route is usually very good, with the dual carriageway and a scenic beauty of its own. You look at the hills in the distance and the ambundance of verdant greenery on the side that we always took this route to Bangalore and enjoyed the drive. Very typical of our civil engineers, the route on that fateful day was speckled with diversions and dug up at various places, and sand and stones were  everywhere on the road.  The Scorpio at a particular juncturent skidded on a patch of sand, and the Major lost control of the car, which nose dived in slow motion into a 8 ½ foot deep trench, and turned turtle. The seat was hurled forward and my husband’s hand got embedded underneath  it. Help came in the form of many young men who broke open the glass to extricate the passengers. By God’s grace, no one was greviously hurt and got off with small bruises, except my hero who broke his forearm and suffered  huge blackish bruises on his shoulder and back and some on his face.

The ambulance arrived in 3 minutes flat and all who could leave were taken to Krishnagiri for first aid, and my husband was sent in the same ambulance to Chennai where he got admitted to the hospital in Porur. He had his surgery after a few days of checking all the vital parameters. We had to cool our heels for five full days before the surgery was undertaken. As I write this he is safely at home looking over my shoulder!

 On hindsight, why couldn’t this road be blocked as it was so dangerous for driving? Why didn’t the passengers fasten their seat belts? It is not enough if the front seat passengers have their seat belts on. If only the belts were used in the rear seat as well, the injuries would have been minimal. It was horrific to see the picture of the car…which was reduced to metal scrap the roof and the sides dented, and the mess was lifted by crane. People who looked at the car wondered how there were survivors….I was told that the car took the impact and saved the passengers.This then is the blessing of a higher power and the protection given…otherwise I cannot think of any logical reason. It was a real miracle. The gift of life is the best gift I could hope for this Deepavalli, we don’t need anything more.

People were quick to point out that it would not have happened this way in a foreign country. No one would have been allowed to use the road.. I do remember on our last visit to the US, my friend implored me not to trip over and fall as I have an uncanny knack of doing this. “ You could sue me for a huge amount if you fell in my house,” she said with a chuckle. I was imagining, given the present situation,  suing the corporation for negligence, not posting enough warnings and plus  suing them for a large amount for the mental trauma caused, and for hospital expenses which cost us a pretty packet. Alas, as true blooded Indians we “accept” and call it our karma and inevitably thank God for small mercies. The younger generation is more belligerent and believe in fighting for their rights and oppose the scant concern for human life. A good thing if I may say so and, without doubt we need more Kejriwals!

Hope for Diabetics

India houses over 61 million diabetics and a forecast that diabetics will cross 100 million by 2030. China today is the world capital for diabetes with India following as a close second. And Chennai is the diabetes capital of the country! 

Diabetes Mellitus a Latin term meaning ‘honeyed urine’ was well known to ancient Indian Physicians, from 400 B.C. “More than 70% of middle aged Indians, will suffer with non-insulin dependent diabetes during their lifetime.  Results of a ten year analysis from Southern India (1994 - 2004) reveal a trend towards increasing prevalence in both urban and rural population and more number of younger persons, particularly women,  afflicted with diabetes. “Though diabetes is caused by a complex interaction of genetic  and lifestyle factors, the most obvious reason for this increase in the number of young diabetics is their frenetic  lifestyle”, says Dr. Rajesh Shah, Consulting Physician and Cardiologist,  Better Health Foundation.

In layman terms, diabetes is a metabolic disorder in which the body is unable to control the amount of sugar in the blood, because the body either does not produce enough insulin or there is resistance to the action of insulin. “Diabetes is one of the diseases that affects the endocrine system. The pancreas produces a hormone, insulin. In type 1 diabetes, the insulin producing cells in the pancreas are destroyed. In type 2 diabetes, insulin is still produced but the body becomes resistant to it.” Says Dr.M. Ravi Kiran Endocrinologist, Agada Health Care. “We as endocrinologists can help you manage your diabetes, by prescribing insulins and/or medications, and offering diet plans .”

“Diabetes may damage almost every tissue and organ of the body, the kidney being one of them”, says Dr. Soundarajan, Head of the Department of  Nephrology SRMC.  “Neglected, one could go into diabetic nephropathy. Once a month albumin in the urine, blood urea, and creatinine levels should be checked. Diabetics should avoid painkillers.. One should watch out for swelling of the feet, extreme fatigue, weakness and breathlessness. Obese children should also be screened for diabetes.”

“A person afflicted diabetes needs to take utmost care of his or her feet”, says Dr.V.Ramnarayan, Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon SRMC. “Watch out for numbness, foot ulcers and carefully examine spaces between the toes and the soles of the feet.. Socks should be washed regularly and changed everyday and one should use footwear preferably with ankle support. Nails should not be cut short and sharp edges should be filed. Lack of trained professionals in diabetes foot care in India and podiatry as a profession being non- existent in India compound the problem further.” Patients with neuropathy who visit religious places during summer months when the day temperature varies from 40 to 45 degrees celsius, develop severe thermal injuries as they have to walk barefoot.“Trivial foot lesions precede 85% of leg amputations in India. Almost 75 percent of amputations are carried out in neuropathic feet with secondary infection, which are potentially preventable.”

“When diabetes is diagnosed the patient needs to go in for regular eye check ups,” says Dr. Amar Agarwal Chairman and Managing Director, Agarwal’s Eye Hospital. “The retina gets affected, and the blood vessels in the eye start leaking blood. Fluorescein angiography is performed to trace the leakage, and laser surgery performed to stop the leakage. Diabetes also produces early cataract. In extreme cases where diabetes is neglected the patient can lose his or her eyesight.”

“There is a strong relationship between depression and diabetes”, says Dr. Thara, Psychiatrist and Director, SCARF... Research studies have also demonstrated that the chances of developing diabetes within two years was increased for persons with current depressive and/or anxiety disorders. “Some of the newer drugs used in the treatment of mental disorders might increase blood sugar levels. It is now important to monitor all patients on such  drugs for their blood sugar levels.”.

“Diabetes is a generalized micro and macro vascular disease, affecting various organs” says Dr. S. Thanikachalam, Chairman & Director of Cardiac Care Centre, Prof. &Emeritus, Sri Ramachandra University. “It is the prime responsibility from those involved in Cardio Vascular Disease Management to address the evolution manifestation to quell the cardiovascular disease in diabetics as they have 2 – 4 fold higher risk of CVD as compared to normal. The cluster which harbours  hyperglycemia, high BP, altered lipid profile, smoking, high body fat content and sedentary habits needs appropriate intervention to prevent emerging epidemic of sub clinical and manifesting CVD. A concerted attempt to identify the pre-diabetics and intervene to reverse the metabolic abnormality will prevent further increase in the prevalence of diabetes, with its inherent complications.”

According to Dr. M.Thanikachalam, Cardiac Surgeon, (American Board of Thoracic Surgery) preventive health check up and a year-round management of health and wellness customized to one’s health profile and screening are absolutely essential. This led him to follow his dream project Agada a one stop institute for comprehensive therapy with the focus on preventive treatment, and established in association with the world leader in Diabetes Prevention Management and Care, Joslin Diabetes Centre, Harvard Medical School, Boston USA. “We believe in empowering you with skills to take ownership and manage your health optimally”, says he.

The future is not as bleak as it was, and with tri annual checks and regular physician consultation diabetes can be kept under control without the feeling of despair that it usually evokes. See box below

BOX

·         Under normal circumstances the blood glucose level does not rise above 160 mg/dl even after food

·         Normally the kidney does not allow any glucose to be lost and hence the urine is sugar free. However if the blood glucose level rises above 180 mg/dl, sugar "spills over" into the urine.

·         Symptoms could be excessive thirst, excessive appetite and excessive urination and swelling of feet. Delayed wound healing, frequent infections, nausea, vomiting and weight loss may be other symptoms.

·         Neglected, diabetes will affect the heart, eyes, kidneys and all major organs

·         With proper treatment, counseling and personal management,  diabetes can be controlled.

Sabita Radhakrishna   (sabi.kittu@outlook.com)

Khadi giri

Come October, and one always thinks of Gandhiji.  Greatly venerated, often maligned, one has to accept that he changed the course of Indian and British history, and every Indian worth his salt should recognize Mahatma Gandhi as a leader who led the way to India’s freedom. The bonfire of British textiles, those gossamer chiffons and silks which the Indian ladies of yore thought most fashionable were cremated in a consuming fire as more and more patriots threw their foreign clothes in. A powerful statement, it later burnt a hole in the British exchequer as Gandhiji himself sat quietly and began spinning cotton on his humble charka. It morphed into  a movement as foreign goods were boycotted and Indians were encouraged to use Indian handlooms. This marked  the beginning of khadi an icon of the Swadeshi movement .and the spinning wheel became a national symbol, and khadi became known as the freedom fabric.

Khadi is a handspun fabric — rough due to its being handspun and woven on simple hand operated looms. It symbolized self sufficiency and freedom and a resurgence of the craft movement in India.  The saris today are plain, with small borders, and usually have a natural ground of off-white for the body  with understated pallus. The modern versions carry a thinner quality fabric, with small butis all over the body; at times with zari to make it more dressy. Some high end designers from Ponduru and Srikalulam from Andhra Pradesh have worked with khadi. Jagada Rajappa works with natural dyes and brought out some beautiful saris which are quite pricey.

Recently I had the pleasure of meeting Rta Chisti, textile expert who has worked on khadi and was herself wearing (along with her protégé) the most stunning khadi sari, so fine that it was  transparent, and draped in an unusual way, without an underskirt…a cross between the Iyengar, Orissa and Bengali style. What was even more unusual was the way Pallavi ( in her early twenties) carried off  the sari, with an off-the-shoulder blouse. The off white sari was in fine count khadi with a korvai mustard border and a simple pallu. Both the ladies wore their  saris for the whole day and were very comfortable!. Only the price tag would be heavy for most of us. Priced at 10K  the saris are sold out as soon as they are woven.

According to Chisti who has committed herself to handwoven textiles, there is a possibility of  recreating the finest of handskills in the region of traditional textiles, given a form of limited period patronage, enabling the handskill sector to rediscover its relevance both in terms of application and material. If this premise were developed consistently in all areas that still retain handspinning skills capabilities on the  traditional Charkha (spinning wheel) combined with handloom weaving, then in ten years we could perhaps be the only country in the world with this unique resource for a national and international market.

After the initial exhibition titled ‘Khadi – The fabric of freedom’ in 2002-2003, the original sponsors Volkart Foundation on the recommendation of Martand Singh, handed over the exhibition for its promotion and development of Khadi fabrics to Rta Kapur Chishti  and her team. After the first year, it was realized that the cotton quality and availability was not reliable so a collaboration was initiated with farmers to cultivate local cotton varieties organically which would be bought back and distributed to spinners for cleaning, combing, carding and spinning which was passed on  to weavers. These cottons are ideal for fine textured, inlay patterned and three  shuttle weaving which is supported and promoted. The challenge is to combine the unique skills in spinning and weaving for contemporary usage for both stitched, unstitched garments, furnishing & home products.

With  the passage of time hand spinning on the indigenous charka had become obsolete. It was the semi mechanized Ambar Charka which come into popular use from the last 50 years. Chisti worked on developing hand spinning to about 115 counts on the desi charka and 115-500 count on the Ambar Charka. This way the fabric was way above mill cloth which had an average of about 120s count.

Designers and craft activists have to work on new ideas to contemporarise traditional skills, enticing the young to look at the sari as a fashion statement which holds its own against any designer apparel. At the Bridal Mantra fashion show, Indian designers had outdone themselves in retaining traditional skills and seducing young buyers with their designs. The pavadai davani which is today hardly seen, looked priceless on the ramp, as they had combined it with swirling, yards and yards of skirt with a stiffener inside to make it look flouncy. Of course, set off with skimpy, exquisite blouses, each creation was gorgeous.  I for one keep hoping that we will never lose sight of our priceless sari heritage whichever form it might take.

JUST  LOO..KING

Our parents inculcated in us the habit of visiting the bathroom before we went out...a habit which has carried right into our adulthood. A question of practicality, then and now.... bathrooms are not conveniently positioned and reachable in the most urgent of situations.  For the male of the species large expanses of open spaces provided ample scope for bladder spurts. Today those very spaces have shrunk leaving the men no alternative but to look around.

During our various travels round the world, it  one did not have to rush to the toilet just when we were about to leave. The number of toilet signs one read posted were heart warming. Every mall had a loo, so we could spend hours loafing,  comforted by the thought that a clean bathroom was at hand.

Did you know that the toilet with the flush cistern is only about 100 years old, and it was considered then, one of the marvels of modern technology and a simple way of removing human waste!  About 60-70 years ago old homes had to use improvised methods where conservancy workers removed human waste from outside the toilet.

The California Institute of Technology in the US won first prize for a solar powered toilet which breaks down water and human waste into hydrogen gas for use in as fuel, in a competition for next gen toilets to improve sanitation in developing countries. It was a challenge set by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation which required designers to develop a new sanitation model which hardly changed since Alexander Cummings developed it more than 200 years ago.

What is the universal name for bathroom? What we called bathroom became toilet because you did your toilet there and placed your toiletries, which you used after a bath. When we travelled outside India there were other names to boot. You had to enquire where the restrooms were...did one rest there?  Or were they washrooms, certainly you didn’t go there just to wash, on the other hand in a dry bathroom there is no water.  And then of course there is the loo which rolls off on your tongue. 

The most valuable invention is the health faucet, and God bless the inventor whoever he may be. I remember encountering it for the first time years ago at an actor friend’s place and she had already christened it “bum shower”.  The bidets are there, but are certainly not so effective. And you have the “Hindustan commode” where one squats and presumably the most hygienic, and very popular in France. The European commode widely popular which you considered a private throne, and the reinvented Anglo Indian commode which had dual purposes, a cross between the two.

About ten years ago we visited Manila and were out on a picnic with our hosts.  We wished to make a beeline to the bathroom.   None of the locals could understand our needs. We tried every trick in the book, gesturing wildly as the urgency to find one increased by the minute. At long last when we mentioned restroom, some kindly soul pointed to a small lone building at a distance, but not too bad as the end was in sight. Since I reached first, I gingerly opened the door which creaked in an eerie manner and entered a dusty room. Lo and behold, right in the centre of the room which was about  8’ x 8’ was a potty, thankfully with a seat cover. When I looked around, there was no wash basin in sight, no tap no water, no flush. Mercifully I had some wet wipes in my handbag which I had the sense to carry, but my Indian habits die hard and I couldn’t wait to get home!

Which reminds me...why does every five star hotel boast of not just spotless toilets but ones devoid of water?  After all the hotels are based in India where almost every Indian likes to wash however large or small the usage might be.  Can’t they have a health faucet?   If  I have  dinner at a 5 Star restaurant, and I need to go to the loo,  I have become smart enough to carry my glass of water with me..  Sometimes I lament the fact that my parents inculcated the cleaning-with-water routine even for small jobs!  Why do the men get off scot free?

Most public toilets in India are deplorable and either you brave them holding your nose and gingerly stepping over puddles or risk urinary infection. Each time you board Air India aircrafts the smell of dank urine reminds you that you are heading home.  Travel first class in the train and you still are confronted by dirty toilets, even dirtier toilet seats, and the balancing act is quite dangerous when you are rhythmically rocking with every move of the train.  Please can we have those disposable plastic seat covers which slip on every time you use the flush! If you are very fussy, cut a wad of old newspapers in the shape of a toilet seat, but don’t forget to cut a largish opening in the centre!!!

And remember, if you have to go, you have to go....

18 August 2012

Maids To Order

When I heard that member couple of our Gymkhana Club took to a Retired People’s Home like ducks to water when their maid of several years standing abandoned them, I gasped with disbelief. Confronted with the topic of “maids” at every social gathering, I used to be glad that I didn’t have any complaints to air. However, quite recently when my own faithful maids moved to an inconvenient distance, and regretfully gave in their notice,  I realised how corroding our dependency on domestic help could be. 

Worst hit when I was hospitalised, the household just didn’t function.. And to come home to dust and disarray was a chilling prospect. Our whole lives change when the maids quit, without a by your leave. For one who prided herself on holding her maids ad infinitum  I have had the largest turnover in the last three months, sometimes at the rate of one every two days despite trying every trick in the book.  The fastidiousness of sticking to a pecking order, what to clean when, and giving those inaccessible corners a lick with extra soap and water, and changing water for swabbing with every room have all gone with the wind. You have to pretend the cobwebs don’t exist unless they hang like seaweed in long dusty tendrils. The bathrooms don’t get an extra wipe, and if you slip ma’am that’s your lookout, ....you see you have to be careful. Pay scales have sky rocketed, and admittedly the cost of living has gone up. You are willing to pay for it but it does not meet with their expectations. The women demand  wages by the hour often bordering on the ridiculous.

There are some working maids who, loth to work in your home produce a stream of women you could interview and ultimately engage. You wonder why they are so obliging till the maid herself tells you that the procurer is an unofficial agent. One woman took umbrage at my asking her if she was an agent, but all the same she said she did expect a generous tip for her helpful spirit.

The characters I got are worth fleshing out for future use in a forthcoming play or a novel. Mops are of course in and if you as much dare suggest  they wipe the floor with a nice swab cloth, they look at you as if you are demented. I have a collection of mops in my broom cupboard as each maid likes her own brand.  No use adding Lysol or cleaner to the bucket of water, as it is only one dip and the entire house is swabbed with it.

The cutest of maids I have had is The Duo, who defy any suggestions of Hindu-Muslim differences. Rajeshwari is a staunch Hindu, and Shakila a dyed in the wool Muslim. They would only work as a pair, one for cooking and one for the cleaning work. “How can you employ a Muslim?” ask some orthodox friends. “Arent they human beings? And when I preach about secularism in my writing there cannot be any duplicity, I have to set the trend...” I say a tad defensively. Shakila a giggly young woman with flowers dripping all over her sari would arrive in a burqa which she would carefully remove in the privacy of my utility  assisted by her friend Rajeshwari. It didn’t matter that the cook got paid a higher salary. They would share their earnings equally. They worked as a team and left for home together. The Duo lasted only for three whole days. When Shakila injured her ankle, Rajeshwari was with her nursing her in hospital!  When one was absent the other would take off as well. That was the end of the conjoined twins as far as I was concerned.

Stay-at –home maids are dreams from the past, even if you have an elderly person at home who does not require nursing, just someone to keep her company and attend to her needs. There are no takers despite an offer of a fat salary.

What is the solution? Take a leaf out of the book of your NRI children. Change your lifestyle. Resort to one dish  meals.  I have several recipes for meals in one. Reena could help us too! Stop entertaining at home. Why should you when you can relax at the club without having to sweat over preprations? Our home has always been “open house”..I even had house guests when I was convalescing. Forget it, close the door and never mind if your friends think you have suddenly become inhospitable. If they do they were not really your friends. Get over your paranoia for cleanliness and order. ( I am trying very hard believe me) And if you get the maid of your dreams, pamper her, increase her salary in fits and starts, and though you need to be firm, overlook her idiosyncrasies and whining.

Be on good terms with your watchman, and if need be your neighbour’s watchman and the roadside ironing people. This group is the richest source of producing maids or drivers. The catch however is that they will fix the salary and if it is as high as they can negotiate, they take a cut from the working woman! Being street smart is the key to survival, and it is a question of increasing demand and diminishing supply. Stop complaining and moaning, because we Indians are  a pampered lot, who have been slowly stripped of the luxury of slaves. Accept the situation gracefully and revamp your life, though I know it is so so hard.

And last but not the least, if none of this works and you get worn out and nervous by the day and find your pressure rising, and you are a senior citizen,  just seriously consider shifting to a retired peoples home. You won’t have to worry about housekeeping or cooking or looking for a maid to order...