Money Matters

Sathya & I always have this one argument. About money, about helping the poor, about donating some amount every month to a worthy cause. He says, in complete seriousness, “Why don’t you to donate it to me? I am the poorest of them all!!” As for his money, “Why should I donate money to XYZ? I have slogged my ass off for it in the 1st place”. His reasoning is, if he has struck gold, the loot is for him to enjoy. I, on the other hand, feel that, if I am rich, I am going to be richer by sharing at least a part of it with someone else, someone other than my immediate family, someone needy, someone unknown or, unrelated to me, whose life can be touched by a small gesture of kindness.

In all good marriages, the wise wife chooses her battles well. This is one battle I am not too eager to win. That is because, neither of us is rich, nor have ancestral wealth to throw away. Hence, even if I would like to contribute generously to a cause, I am held back by my constantly shrinking purse. And even if he wants to hoard cash, his wallet is stressed by the sheer load of his never ending list of wants. So, what’s the point of arguing endlessly with him? We have agreed to disagree & maintain status quo. I continue to do my thing, my little bit, because I know, that every drop counts.

I really believe that, whoever earns, say beyond 15,000, in a city like Bangalore, can afford to part with at least 300 a month to some cause. Is that too hard? I don’t think so. Accounting for all our expenses, living costs, utilities, and entertainment costs & even if we stashed away another big wad of currency under the category “miscellaneous”, there’s still, always, a wee bit left at the end of it all. What is lacking is not the money but the heart to part with it. What we need is an upbringing that nurtures an attitude of sharing & giving. I remember reading Suzan’s blog, where she wrote about Ramadan, & how they are encouraged to actively help the less fortunate during the month, because that act itself is a form of prayer.

Just think of the Whirlpool add “Ek Jodi Kapda’. A simple & beautiful thought that can easily be done by anybody. No excuse can justify not being a part of such a humane campaign. There was also one by Pantaloons, I think, if I am not wrong, where you could give away your old toys & they would distribute it among the poor. How many of us have clothes/toys/utensils/furniture & so on that we haven’t used in a really long time & we know we will never use it? But it lies in the house. We keep clinging on to it. We don’t mind letting an old wooden cot/chair/table rot in the rain. We simply can’t bear the thought of giving it away.
Wealth creation is not bad. Wealth accumulation is. By that I mean, hoarding money or things; being a miser; not wanting to share it with anyone; sometimes not spending on one’s own family; not giving that teensy weensy excess away to a needy person. We should salute the likes of the Birlas, the Ambanis, the Tatas & the numerous others who have created great wealth for themselves, their stakeholders & the common man, who invests his life’s savings in their companies.

I read a quote once that said, “To be born poor is not our fault but to die poor is”. One of the purposes of human life is to better one’s own conditions; to constantly move from one strength to the next; to continuously strive to improve ourselves, not only in personal growth as in our talents & abilities but also in our standards of living. Of course, money matters! Because only if you have it, can you give it. So, do go out there, & make money, all you can, loads of it; mint it, multiply it. But just don’t be blinded by it. After all, not everything in life that counts can be counted.

First Love

Don’t know how many remember the song from Sunitha Rao that stormed into our lives one day:
Pari Hoon Main, Mujhe Na Choona

The video showed a girl falling in love with her teacher & getting hurt in the bargain. Needless to say, it was her first love, also the first time she had been hurt in love. The number of times it would break again…who knew. There was something magical about the song & the lyrics sure touched young girlie hearts.

Whoever has ever forgotten her first love? First love is very special. There is such a rush of emotions & perpetual excitement. It is then that you realize you are desirable. It makes you feel beautiful & wanted. And you want that feeling to last (if not the man, hihihi!!). You want to surrender your heart & soul to him because that is the most precious thing you have. You hope fervently that he continues to admire you all your life (till the mild shock called ‘marriage’ happens, if at all!).

The movies screw our minds with images of lovesick, handsome men pining for a woman’s love & beauty. And you wish there would be a man who would pine for your love too. Kisi mahaan aadmi ne theek kaha tha. It truly is better to have loved & lost, than never to have loved at all.

When Binu proposed to me, it took me a long time to say ‘yes’. But I must admit that even when I used to rebuff him, it definitely felt great to be wooed. The whole chase situation, the attempts to please you, the willingness to put up with any “natak / nakhras”, the many little ways they try to catch your attention, the countless things they do to impress you … oh men are great in love! I think it’s a man’s persistence in trying to win your heart that actually makes you fall in love with him. You reason, "In spite of my many No’s if he is still trying so hard to win me over, he must love me very much indeed". Oh! What wouldn’t a girl do to be truly loved by a man?

But hey, whatever happens to them when they finally do get the girl? And the moment the girl becomes wife, there is this major kahani mein twist. Is it true that we are only a conquest for you? That you tire of the ‘pataofy’ game? That once you actually get us, you want to hang up your boots & rest & relax? That now we must handle the maintenance part of the relationship because you think you have already done your bit?

Haven’t you heard Bryan Adams sing, “Have you ever really, really loved a woman?” Don’t you know loving us is a life-long investment of time? The undivided attention, the priceless, well-thought out gifts, the completely honest, heart-felt praises, please keep them coming.

No, we never tire of being praised. And admired. And being told that we look like a million bucks every day; even on the days when we are spread out on the floor scrubbing it clean in our old nighty! What do you have to lose, after all? Two sweet words a day from our pati parmeshwar’s holy lips keeps our engines running for life. How’s that for, to put it in your words, great mileage/low maintenance/super performance/excellent return on investment?

Hate us, if you must, but please don’t ignore us. Answer all our calls. Praise us at least twice a day. Admire our purchases. Shower us with sudden gifts (Whoever said gifts are only for special occasions like anniversaries & birthdays?) Pamper us with your time. Listen when we speak. Hold us tight. Tickle us into joyous laughter. Remember, we fell in love with you in the first place, because you made us laugh. Let humor be the greatest of all your gifts to us. We love you. You know we do.

Food & Exercise

I’ve never understood the concept of foodie. Who is a foodie exactly? And what is with this statement that most skinny girls, & all the three generations of the Raj Kapoor family, are wont to say, “Oh, I am a complete foodie!”

The only time I have craved for food, with as much desperation as a beggar craving for a rotten morsel was, during & post my pregnancy. All I wanted to do was eat. I was so starved. I didn’t have my mother to cook a hot meal for me. I was forever famished. Throughout my pregnancy, for the office lunch, I survived on the parcel meals from Hallimane Hotel in Malleshwaram. I think, it cost only around Rs 18/-. But for me, it was truly “mrushtanna bhojana”. At nights, I have slept with only an apple & a glass of milk. No wonder then that I even dreamt of food on many nights. Food was a recurrent theme.

I’ve known people who find the very sight of food stimulating; the really affluent, w ell-to do people at that. How’s that possible? It’s just food. I don’t go “crazy” at the sight of food. I know a few who eat like it is their last day & last meal. The amount they heap on their plates & the variety – just about everything would be heaped onto it. Even if it’s a buffet, I eat almost the same amount & prefer the combination of rice-gravy-sabzi. I do indulge in the dessert, & might try an item on the menu I’ve never seen or tried before, if there ever is one. And of course, puddings & mousse are things I risk only in a buffet.

For Sathya, food is an intoxicant. And if it’s a buffet, it’s complete paisa vasool time. I tease him saying, what we spend on two person’s buffet charges; he manages to recover it alone. Once in Hyderabad, he over ate so much that, he couldn’t lift his ass off the couch for the rest of the afternoon. And I brought the house down, saying, “We are on a holiday, damn it. We are supposed to go sight-seeing & not eat like pigs & sleep like logs”. And he went, “So what? Am I supposed to starve on holidays?”

Ab yeh haalat ho gayi hai ki he is 112 kg for a height of 6’3”; which is almost 30 kg overweight. No wonder, people say, “apni biwi ki SUNO.”

Over a decade of smoking & drinking & bad lifestyle choices having taken a toll on his health, & at 112 kg & after two warnings from his doctor, he is now trying hard to control himself at the table & not go overboard. He has finally started exercising - running/jogging/walking. For all the time he spent stuffing his body, he now has to spend twice the time to get it off. If only, it would come off so easily!!

In 33 years, there were only two occasions when I have moved my limbs in semblance to exercise. Once, in Dec 2004 I enrolled for yoga classes near Spice Garden in Marathahalli; twice a week for a month. It was in a room with mirrors at the front, & the yoga movements felt more like a slow, sensual dance than exercise.


The second time was when, for 2 months, I went for weekend 1 hour salsa classes in Indiranagar’s dance school called Swingers Club. The stretching & warm-ups & the dance moves – yeah those were the only times my body was exposed to some form of fitness.

I believe, any form of exercise is detrimental to my health. I might shrink. Or lose so much weight I might need to take Body Mass.

Photo albums

I like when a picture tells a story. Fortunately, most of them do. Those stories are what endear you to the albums; a slice of life to be savored again & again. An album tucked away in some corner of the house is a sure shot pick me up. Who doesn’t love looking back on the path they travelled & the distance they covered? Photo albums are my memory capsules. Pop one & travel to a time & place of sweet memories.

Our early birthdays, in Bombay, were a huge investment of time & money. A professional photographer would be called. All those black & white photos are dear to my heart. I adore them. I look a complete idiot in almost all of them. Most have me, with my mouth open & eyes looking distractedly, at nothing in particular, least of all the camera. Nevertheless, I have often caught myself, running my fingers over them, reminiscing the old times & feeling very special.

When we were kids, we didn’t know a thing about cameras, neither did our parents. But, as parents today, we’ve become more camera savvy. We teach our kids how to pose, to stand in a particular way, & smile a particular smile. Or they see us posing & learn on their own. My daughter poses like a pro. Sometimes, she even says, “Click a snap now. Like this”. She enjoys the attention & is confident in front of the lens. As for us, we were all a bunch of shy, nervous, bewildered creatures back then.

At times when I am completely jobless or totally bored, an old album is a mood lifter. Some albums make you choke up with emotions. Especially, if there are memories trapped there, of a person who is no more, or of happier times with a friend, a parent or a sibling you aren’t in talking terms now. Some make you double up with laughter; especially those that have snapshots of little children – your own or others or maybe even you as a gawky kid or a self-conscious teen. Tiny tots with their singularly madcap expressions, wacky outfits (or no outfits), spur of the moment action, are a collector’s delight.

What I find excruciating are the wedding albums. So orchestrated! Same smile, same stance, (should I add “same groom!”), just the people with whom you stand keep changing. It’s the perfect example of a well regimented exercise in cordiality. However, the part I truly can’t stand is, when they click the pictures of the wedding guests eating. Do we really need to see them eating? And, whenever I've been a guest, & have had the videographer approach my table, with his assistant turning those big focus lights on me, I’ve wished to be invisible.

Is it strange that we capture only happy pictures? The days you wanted to kill your evil colleague, or the nights you cried your heart out or the time you hit your “angel” child or the days you had a tiff with your spouse & wanted to kill yourself for marrying him, the blessed family in shambles …ah! No! Well, those never come up in an album. It’s always the funny or joyful moments, where you’re hugging your co-worker during the office Diwali celebration or the blissful couple poses. By the way, the couple photos get so many sweet, well-meaning comments that you actually start believing them! Sample: “cute couple”, “pair made in heaven”, “lovely Jodi”, “what a pair”

It is considered inauspicious to click the photo of a newborn baby especially during the first few hours/days.
Wonder how Tan is going to look at all her baby photos. I wonder if she’ll have the time & patience to listen to her old mother retelling the tidbits of her life a zillionth time. Will she be pleased that I clicked those innumerable moments so that she’d see her life unfold in a picture story? I think she will be; I’m towards my mother.

24 Hours only

If I had only 24 hours to live, wonder what I would do?

First, I would withdraw all my money. Close all my savings schemes, mutual funds & the various other investment options. Calculate the money I got in hand. Choose an exotic location & escape there with Sathya & Tanvi. This, assuming, the place is an hour’s flight, & tickets are available & all the other logistical details.

If I am unable to move out of town, then in Bangalore, I would choose a place like Wonder Laa or some other water theme park.

Instead of water, I would drink loads of milkshakes that day – all possible variations of it. I LOVE milkshakes.

I would finally buy those micro mini denim shorts & leather boots I have been lusting after, since forever! That will put an end to Sathya’s infamous instruction, “Ya…you can wear those when we go to Malaysia (or any other “phoren” city). Not here. If you want to wear in India, wear it at home.” How ridiculous!

I will buy Satty an entire range of exercise or gym gear, from shoes to sweat pants to sippers to what not. I know he is going to start over-eating all over again; partly from old habit & partly from missing me, not having me around to cajole him, “Please stop. It’s enough for one day.” He definitely will need a gentle reminder to go, shed those extra kilos off.

I will buy Tan an exotic piece of jewelry for her to remember me by; something very ethnic, with exquisite stone work; a choker perhaps.

I will try a shot of tequila, a puff of cigarette & one dose of the most easily available drug!

I will definitely blow up all my cash (the little that would be left by then that is,.)

Maybe, I will record a video, with me talking to Sat & Tan, one final time, telling them I love them. No … I don’t think I will be able to do that. I might not be able to stay strong. I may choke & begin to cry. No. I think, I will prefer to go, with a few things left unsaid.

I want all my last memories to be happy ones. I wouldn’t want to see Sattu & Tan sad that I wouldn’t be there any longer. I want to take their cheerful faces with me to my afterlife. They too should remember me smiling. I think I will kiss Tan a lot that day. I will miss them both.

Hey … I shouldn’t be ‘missing’ them. Ya right. I will just hover around them, especially Tan, and guard her like I am her own private angel. Will I be an angel? Wow, that was one redeeming thought in this whole shindig of death related wishes.

My god … 24 hours is such a short time to enjoy life at the last moment! Funny, I didn’t count the 33 years I already had! Hmm!

Betrayal

What is betrayal? Is it a glance that lasts too long? Or long conversations with your colleague? Is it sleeping with somebody? Or is it just emotional betrayal?

Will I be ok if Sathya did any one of these things? Will his conversations with his female colleagues distress me? Will I be paranoid about it? Will I imagine his interactions in the office, recreating scenes? Will I obsess over such trivia as who does he have his breakfast & dinner with? Will I be able to take it in my stride if I were ever betrayed? Will I let it go?

Right now, he is indispensable to my life. I can’t imagine myself apart from him. I may detest a 100 things in him but I love him, I need him. Any thought or deed of betrayal from him would be a death blow to me. Yes, I want to foolishly believe that it will never ever happen to me. He won’t fall in love with someone else ever, so long as I am still alive & still with him. Naïve? Yes. More than naiveté, it is a defense mechanism. It’s like by repeatedly telling myself that he loves me & will always love me & only me, it will become an inerasable reality. But hypothetically speaking, if it happens, then what? I am psyching myself out with this topic.

No, I won’t let it go. No matter how much I might love & need him, I think I will not tolerate infidelity. I can’t. It’s not an ego thing. It is plain sense: he is interested in someone else, not in me anymore. If he pretends otherwise, he could either be playing it safe & having the best of both worlds or he might just be a chicken, not brave enough to face the truth that he is involved with some other woman. So, either ways, he is fooling me. And the way I look at it, well, I am gullible enough for a whole lot of people who find it easy to fool me, from shopkeepers to hawkers to rickshawallas to neighbors to colleagues to relatives to friends. I definitely don’t need my husband to top that lousy list!

More than the actual act of unfaithfulness, I guess the fooling game is what I am petrified of. The “usko thodi na maloom padega” attitude; the “Aur agar maloom pada bhi toh kuch bolke mamla nipta lunga” nonchalance; the “usko mein sambhal lunga” confidence. If he ever gets attracted to someone else, I would rather he chooses her & goes with her. I wouldn’t like to be in a dishonest relationship where we both know he is cheating on me. I can’t bring myself to turn a blind eye to the sordid affair in order to continue with a ‘happy couple’ façade for the society. Damn the people! Damn him! I will be fine on my own. Thank you. I won’t suffer in silence in a hollow marriage just to please the neighborhood aunties.

I will prefer he goes to his new woman because one act of straying is still an act of straying. There must have been something not fulfilling enough in our twosome that made him look outside. Or maybe it was just an impulsive office affair that went one step too far. Whatever. As far as I am concerned, it is OVER. He can have her, as wife, girlfriend or keep. Who cares? He is good with her.

Will I remarry? Will I find in me the heart to be able to love another man again? Well, I do believe in the saying, “Never say never” :)

But I also know that, that’s highly unlikely. Simply because, when you have a deeply enriching emotional connect with your child; like I do with my daughter, you aren’t really giving a darn about a man anymore. After all, jeene keliye all you need is to be loved by at least ONE person. Zindagi jeelenge.