JANMA RAHASYAM

Four and half decades ago, on a rainy night, my mother, a full term pregnant, had to wade through hip-deep water for more than two kilometers to the only nursing home functioning in Vadapalani.  (There are half a dozen corporate hospitals in the locality now, but those days, things were very different).  Later I learnt that the lady who ran the nursing home was not a qualified physician, but a quack, who delivered/terminated pregnancies of unwed mothers.  When my mother got admitted into the hospital, the doctor was not present.  Since my parents were legally wedded and my mother had no intention of terminating the pregnancy, the doctor probably felt that her presence was not required.  There was just one nurse present at the nursing home, when I was born.  Since my mother was completely drenched in rain, I was born sneezing and my mother was very scared that I would die sneezing.  But I survived.

I was born exactly the same year, (the Hindu lunar calendar has a cycle of 60 years) same month and date of my maternal grandmother and if I were born a few minutes later, the star too would have been the same.  My parents decided to name me after my grandmother.  Since two of my cousins were named Charumati and Charulata before me, my parents named me Charusree. (Surprisingly, everyone in my house has a namesake in the extended family)  My sister has many namesakes and she was very annoyed that I was given a rare name and she a common one and at one point of time, we even planned to exchange our names.

Though my mother and some of her relatives believed that I am a reincarnation of my maternal grandmother, my mother is so naïve that she never tried to hide her disappointment about my resemblance to my paternal grandmother.  Many times she has told me that, when I was born, I looked exactly like my paternal grandmother in her deathbed.  She of course says that my generosity, broadmindedness and inclusiveness are all her mother’s traits.

I am told I started speaking very early.  In fact, I started singing even before I started speaking.  When I was about ten months old, my mother was shocked to hear me sing a lullaby (uyyala, jampala to be specific).

Even as a child, I did not relish sweets and this was discovered by a neighbor, in whose house I spent considerable time.  I did not like being spoon-fed and demanded that food was served in a plate and I was allowed to eat it myself.  My people say I used to take a long time to finish eating and I picked and ate like a monkey.

My mother says I argued a lot even as a kid and when I was about two or three years old, my mother served me an ‘instant dosa’, which I refused to eat, stating that I had not seen her grind batter for dosa and my mother says “puvvu puttagAnE parimaListundi” – meaning a flower emanates fragrance soon after it blossoms, referring to my shrewdness.

VISUALLY CHALLENGED

As the train in which I was travelling to office this morning crossed Fort Station, a visually challenged lady came very close to me and said “can you help me to the bus stand near the subway? I want to board a bus from there.”  As she said this, the train was moving over the subway and I said “Madam, you should have got down at the Fort station.  However, I will take you to the nearest bus stop.”

“Are you new to the route?” she asked.

I didn’t understand why she asked me so and I said, “the next station is Beach and we will detrain and enquire and I will ensure that you board the bus.”

I was very surprised to see the lady turn to the side of the platform, as the train neared the station.  I helped her get down and asked her again, “do you want to board the bus at the High Court bus stand?”

She said “oh that is on the other side.  I want to go to Stanley Hospital.  Take me to this side” pointing to the main gate.  Only then I realized that there was another gate to the station and helped her out.

(I take the ‘Tambaram-Beach’ train to work every day and ‘Beach’ station is the terminus.  There are two entrances to the station, one main gate and another at the rear side.  I usually board the last compartment, take the stairs and get out of the rear gate, as it is closer to my office.)

As we got out of the station, I stopped looking for someone to guide me to the bus stop near the subway.  The lady, freeing her hand, which I was holding till then, said “turn to the right and take me to the subway over there.  I can go the bus stop myself.”  I was stunned.  There was in fact a pedestrian subway very close to the entrance and I have never noticed it. 

To me a subway is a road passing under a train track and since there was one a mile away, I was planning to take the lady there.

She is not the one who is visually challenged.  I am the one.

CHANGE RESISTANCE

Recently an acquaintance of mine posted her photo on a social networking site.  Clad in trendy western outfits with matching accessories, conditioned and straightened hair, made up face and manicured nails, she looked more a model/actress than a student. What I found more surprising was her father proudly sharing her picture. There is nothing wrong in a student looking good or posing for a photo or posting a photo or her father sharing the photo.  What was surprising to me was, I have known the father as a different person.  He was a very orthodox, conservative and highly opinionated person. He imposed a lot of restrictions on his sisters and wife and they were never allowed to wear salwars and nighties even at home.  I have not met him in the recent past and I wonder how his daughter has managed to be so trendy and how much his attitude has changed.   

Thinking about this, I am reminded of what Ammamma garu said some three decades ago.  Ammamma garu was my neighbour’s mother. She lived in a distant town and once in a while visited her daughter in Madras.  Every time she visited them, she also visited our house and spent some time with us.  Water from our well was very hard and not suitable for drinking and cooking. We did not have corporation water connection and so my parents fetched water from a friend’s house, which was a few houses away from ours.  It was a difficult exercise.  Seeing the plight, Ammamma garu suggested we appoint a maid to fetch water for us.  Money certainly was a problem for us, but more than that, my mother’s conservative upbringing did not allow her to accept the suggestion.   Though Ammamma garu also belonged to our community, her family was little modern and cosmopolitan than ours.  My mother was very proud of her orthodoxy and said she would struggle as long as she can.  Ammamma garu said “change is inevitable.  Everyone has to change.  Some change a little early and some change a little later.”   Not just our family, those who were more orthodox also, now buy bottled water for consumption.

How true! Nothing is constant. We are still evolving. Change is inevitable.  Everyone has to change.  Some change a little early and some change a little later. There is no need for anyone to be proud about themselves or be judgemental about anyone else. 

I am so impressed and convinced with Ammamma garu’s statement, I have been quoting to my friends whenever there is a discussion on change resistance. Recently, my friend told me that she quoted this to her mother-in-law. The statement has now become mine.

TO LOSE OR NOT TO LOSE

“To Lose or Not to Lose”- that’s the name of my team.  A team we formed in the office. 

The organisation I work for holds a competition annually.   A competition amongst the employees for losing weight. It is called “10K Challenge”.  The participants form teams with four members in each.  The duration is 40 days.  Parameters like Height, weight, BMI, fat %, visceral fat etc. are made note of before the competition starts.  Every participant is given a pedometer to be worn, that records the steps a person makes in a day. Every participant has to register at least ten thousand steps a day, throughout the competition period. Successful weight/fat losers are rewarded both as teams and also as individuals.

The competition started with great enthusiasm.  110 teams were formed.  Every team had a unique name, viz.,

Flab to Fab, Fitizens, Fit Appa, Kozhuppula Gandam, Belly Twisters, Kuchi Mittai, Fat Assassins, Fat Luck, Ennamma Ippadi Weight Koraikka Sollureengalle maa etc.

 As mentioned above, our team’s was “To Lose or Not to Lose”.  Two of my colleagues and a colleague’s wife were my team members.  Both my colleagues are slim. In fact, they have no fat to lose.  But they joined to motivate me and my colleague’s wife, who was also little obese.  Our organization created a separate module for monitoring progress of all the participants on the intranet and the team leader was given access to enter the steps registered by the respective team members. Since my team leader was busy and touring often, he shared the password with me and I became the de facto leader and started monitoring the steps of my team and feeding the data into the system.   For the first few days, my team members were enthusiastic and recorded 10000 + steps.  Still our team was in 70^th position, as the other teams were very aggressive.  There were two/three teams, that registered 1,50,000 + steps collectively, which means the average was 40000 steps per member per day.  The entire office discussed “steps” & “weight” at every possible opportunity.  We also discussed it in the train and most of the co-passengers came to know of this program.

My fit and slim team members, slowly lost interest in the competition and were not regularly registering “steps”.  My colleague’s wife who also had some medical problem was walking sincerely initially, but then, unfortunately, she was hospitalised for a surgery and so I was the only member who registered the minimum steps almost every day.  Due to this, our team slowly drifted to 104^th position.  I did not give up.  Though there was no chance for our team to win, I was not demoralized.  I wanted to try sincerely and give my best and win in the individual category.

I reduced my food intake.  I went for long walks twice a day - once in the morning and once in the evening.  I walked in the stations.  I walked in the office during tea and lunch breaks.  My colleagues guessed that I would have lost a significant weight.  But after 20 days of commencement of the program, there was an intermediate assessment and the readings were not very encouraging.  My weight reduced by 900 grams, fat loss was 3.3% and 2% loss of visceral fat.  Still, I was not disappointed.  I keep reading a lot about weight loss and I know that, when a person exercises vigorously, the fat gets converted into muscle and since muscle is heavier than fat, there is likely to be no reduction of weight or in some cases, increase in weight.  My fat loss was of course encouraging and I constantly dreamt of losing at least 10% of fat by the end of the program.  My program co-ordinator was also very optimistic.  He motivated me a lot.

I did not discuss about this competition with my best friends Murali, Anuja & Prakash, with whom I was regularly in touch on phone, which is very unusual.  I wanted to surprise them too.

My family members were not very happy.  They could not comprehend as to why I was so obsessed about weight reduction at this stage of my life. 

Till a week before the conclusion of the program, I had recorded my daily steps.  In the last one week, I was little busy and did not log on to the module and thought I can record them on the last day.  Appointment for my assessment was fixed on the last day.  I was very eager to know my results.  I started for my morning walk on 27^th July with the pedometer tucked.  Hardly would I have walked 200 steps, I felt someone coming very close and hitting me from behind.  I thought some chain snatcher was at work.  But even before I could ascertain as to what was happening, I fell down, with my legs under an auto-rickshaw and I was dragged along the moving vehicle.  The driver was either drunk, or was under the influence of a drug or was just sleeping while he was driving and did not notice me at all.  Probably, some part of my dress was hooked to the vehicle as I was falling down and I got stuck under the chassis of the vehicle.  The driver did not realise even then and dragged me along and stopped after I screamed.  Some passer-by helped to lift the vehicle and get me out and as I took my phone to call the police, the driver fainted.  I could not lift my hand.  With great difficulty, I called my brother, who was getting ready to drive his children to their school and informed him about the accident.  My brother, a firm believer of Karma Siddhanta, rushed to the scene and without even questioning the driver, rushed me to the hospital, as he thought medical-aid was most important and secondly felt I too was responsible for the accident, as I walked in a road without a footpath, in the same direction of traffic. 

I had a shoulder dislocation and it had to be set right by “reduction” technique.  There were injuries all over my body, and there was a large abrasion starting from my thigh to my foot as I was dragged on a rough surface on the road.  The abrasion resembles the map of North America and South America.  Since the dirt got tattooed, fearing infection, the Doctors advised debridement, due to which, the skin on my leg is yet to be formed. Even after a week’s stay at the hospital and a month’s stay at home, I am yet to recover fully. 

Life is funny. The pedometer that recorded my steps and was part of my body for more than a month, got smashed in the accident.  I could not attend the assessment. The competition co-ordinator, not aware of my accident, called me when I was in hospital to check as to why I had not attended the assessment.  I don’t know how much of weight and fat I lost.  Based on my intermediate assessment, and the steps I entered in the system, I was in 214^th position in the individual category and 104^th position as a team. 

Since I was confined to bed, for almost a month, I think, I would have gained the weight I have lost during the 40 days period. I am eagerly waiting to recover fully, so that, I can start my walking sessions again.

Though I am sad that, I am suffering for no fault of mine, my family members are very glad that, I have survived.  They keep reminding me that, I have not had any fractures because of my fat and also I did not get crushed under the tyres of the auto, as I got stuck under because of my size and advise me not to complain about my weight.

I planned to post a blog on 27^th July with the same title.  But I could not.  Had the accident not taken place, the content would have been very different.  I would have flaunted about the little weight/fat I would have lost.

MIRACLES DO HAPPEN

I love banana trees.  I like the light green colour of the leaves, the smell and structure of the plant and more than anything else, eating in a leaf.

I have always wanted to have them in our backyard, but for vaastu reasons, my parents objected to the idea of planting them.  My desire to have them in our garden became very intense a few years ago and I suggested to my mother two places, where water stagnated i.e., near the corporation water pump and the kitchen drain outlet for planting plantain saplings, so that the water is not wasted (Banana trees need a lot of water).  As usual, my parents strongly opposed the idea.

But, miraculously, exactly in the two places I suggested, banana plants sprouted during a monsoon.  I don’t know if the roots from a neighbour’s garden reached ours with the flood water, or the plants sprouted from the seeds dropped by birds (banana plants can also be propagated through germination, which was not known to us).

Initially, when the plants sprouted, we thought it was a variety of grass.  Then felt, it could be Turmeric and a little later thought it could be Canna indica, but once it took shape, we understood it is my favourite banana.  They are such beautiful plants, my parents too could not forcibly remove them quoting vaastu reasons. 

Every time I see them, I feel so happy because, the plants have grown exactly the way I imagined them and wanted them to and the fact that I too have experienced a miracle.

ART OF GOOD WRITING

CREATIVITY IS CONTAGIOUS. PASS IT ON – ALBERT EINSTEIN

All of us wish to express.  All of us long to be heard.  All of us look forward to be appreciated.  It is very natural. 

I am not an accomplished writer.  Except for my blog and for a few radio programmes, I have not written much  In fact, I am not even well read. But my friend Divya, considers me good enough to give her tips for writing and I dedicate this blog to her.

I have always been a storyteller.  But never dared to write.  I had inhibitions. "Will I be able to write?  How would people receive it? What if there are errors?  Will my perception and the readers’ perception be the same? Will I be criticized? Will I be ridiculed?"  These were some of the thoughts that bothered me. 

In the mid 90’s, in one of the episodes of Cadbury’s Bournvita Quiz Contest, Vir Sanghvi was the guest.  His brief speech after the contest for the budding writers was so inspiring, I started writing. I don’t remember the full speech.  But he mentioned that, writing is all about organizing one’s thoughts.  So let me start from there.

It is very important for the writer to think clearly and organize the thoughts in a logical sequence.  There has to be an introduction, the main part and the conclusion.

Maintaining a uniform rhythm is important.

ABCs of communication viz., accuracy, brevity and clarity have to be taken care of.  This helps in retaining attention span of the readers.

The story, essay, report or the article has to be error free.  Grammar and punctuation have to be taken care of.

Information, phrases or even words should not be repeated.

Usage of appropriate quotes, idioms and phrases will add value.

Read a lot.  It not only improves vocabulary, but also opens many 

avenues.  . 

The hints of the basic story/essay have to be jotted down and 

 then developed. A rough draft to be made and read again and 

again for modification.

Every person is unique and the originality should always be maintained.  More important is passion.