Taraville

The List That Tara Made

2010-08-09T00:31:00.001-07:00

Last night Tara made a list in her notebook of the things she apparently 'needs'.

FRENDSHIPBAND
RING
NECLESE
FLOWRS
BARBIDOLL
LAPTOP
PRINSSEGALSSEFOR
POMPOM
DUSBAD
CHARJRFORTHELAPTOP
MYOWNBAG
PHONE
IPHONE
CHEESEBALS
PASTACHIPS
ALLOUT
CD
PRINSSESANDTHEFROG
BOTL
THRMOMEETR
SPOONS
FORCS
OFFICEBOIRD

My favourite is really the 'charjrforthelaptop'. Foresight! Plus she needs not only a phone but also an iphone. And the AllOut (mosquito repelling thing) is very thoughtful too. The botl, spoons and forcs make me wonder if she is planning to move out (with herownbag), but perhaps its for her new office where she'll be putting up her 'officeboird', wearing pompoms and eating cheesebals. :)

Piercing Ears

2010-04-14T01:46:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why we hadn't pierced Tara's ears till now.

Conventional wisdom in India is that:
1. A girl HAS to have her ears pierced, so much so that she's barely a few months old and the piercing is done without any questions asked.
2. The younger they are - as in a few months old! - the less it hurts because the earlobe is thin and malleable. (Apparently the 'scientific' logic - you gotta love the way we justify weird traditions with the 'scientific' theories!)
3. It's a rite of passage amongst many Hindu communities from across India involving some token rituals, acknowledging the girl as a 'girl' in the household. (Other religious groups also do it, but I'm not sure how much of rituals accompany it.)

I think the real reasons are something more than that. It's a way of identifying girls from boys (helps when you're discriminating later, don't you think? ;<) , one of the initial ways of socializing a new born into their gender and also a way of asserting class and caste status with gold earrings. (That's the sociologist in me speaking.)

In my opinion though, the first reason is a bit sexist, the second reason isn't good enough and the third, well, it's really not my cup of tea. We wanted to wait until.... we weren't sure how long we would wait. S was of the opinion we should wait till she was 10 (without furnishing much logic to support that number), but was sure it shouldn't be now, as loopy earrings could ....get pulled if she was in a rough-and-tumble and cut her ears. :) . Really now. :). I was happy to go with that reasoning, although the ones that appealed to me more was: she should get her ears pierced if and when she wanted to. And maybe when she could look after herself more, and care for her ears on her own. So we smiled politely when people exclaimed and asked why she hadn't got her ears pierced, and thanked people who gifted her gold earrings, loops, studs, whatever and put them away in a cupboard. Six pairs have been lying inside holding their peace since (plus one that was used by S ;)).

She first asked about why she didn't have earrings last year having noted that all the girls around her did, but it ended there. But for the last few days, it's been on her mind. Finally she came to me a few days ago and asked if she could get her ears pierced. I informed her about the process etc. and told her to think about it. If she still wanted it, we could go ahead in the next few days. She came back to say, yes, she would still like to do it. And so we went.

Piercing ears these days is very different. My ears were pierced apparently when I was a year old or so by a local doctor who heated the tip of a needle to sterilize it, and plunged it through my earlobes. My mother had taken a packet of Gems with her and she popped them into my mouth as I bawled to distract me. S's ears were pierced in his teenage years I believe and I'm sure it had evolved from the hot-needle routine. But this was really cool. The guy at the jewellery shop (Pradeep Jewellers in Lokhandwala, in case anyone reading is interested) took out a bunch of studs we could choose from, fitted the one we chose (tiny flowers) into a sleek black and silver gun and punched one earlobe with a gentle squelch. Till now, Tara had been calm and cooperative, in fact, eager because (as I reminded her) it was her idea. But after the first earring was in, she began to bawl. It had hurt and she now did not want to do the other ear. I was almost resigned to taking her back with one earring done, when she agreed to do the other. And then it was done. Some more tears and clinging to me while I walked about with her, but also trying to catch herself in the mirror while she cried and simultaneously taking a look at the studs in her ears. :) I had promised to buy her a gift while negotiating for the second ear so I had to be true to it and promptly took her to a nearby shop to pick something. So it's done. The Ears Have Been Pierced. Those earrings in the cupboard can finally see the light of day. And while I'm not the ritualistic type, I thought this at least deserved some 'ritual', even if it's only a blog post.

This Weekend...

2009-09-06T23:13:00.001-07:00

- Tara buttoned and unbuttoned my shirt perfectly, albeit a tad slowly. I had no idea she could do buttons - she duly informed me that she's done it at school. Wow.
- She learnt about where food comes from (other than from 'the market') by playing Farmville, a Facebook application/game thingy, with her dad. She decided where the cherry trees went, wanted the farmer to be a girl, and learnt that we have to wait for things to grow. 'Two hours?', she asked increduously when told that's how long it would take for the strawberries to grow. A few hours later she asked to log on so she could check if the strawberries had come. (We tried to use this opportunity to make a point and talk about how difficult it is to grow food, and therefore we shouldnt waste it, but it didnt really work as well as we had hoped.)
She sang 'The farmer plants the seed...' to complete this exercise of virtual farming, which led Papa to comment observantly that there was no situation for which she did not have a song.
While buying animals for the farm, she asked 'What do we get from a pig?'. (Her father replied, 'meat' but moved on to other issues quickly before the gory details were asked for.)Before this, when informed that 'Cows give us milk' she rolled her eyes exasperatedly and said impatiently 'I KNOW cows give milk.'
- She KNOWS a lot of things. I think its this new school she's at (it follows the Montessori system of primary education) where they play - oh, sorry, 'work' :) - with binomial cubes (!!), know what funnels are, and call a square a square, and a cube, well, a cube.
- She broke down most of the words into its phonetic components and pointed out which letter it started with as well as a host of other words which started with a similar sound. Last weekend she shocked me by reading lists of three-letter words. Really. She can read.
-All this indicates that she is seriously stepping over some invisible line, slipping out of dependency, coming into her own, you know... Growing Up.

The Three Of Us

2009-07-22T22:53:00.000-07:00

I thought it would only be fair to the new baby - Tara's sister/brother - scheduled to arrive today with a sort-of planned C-section this evening - to put in a post on the eve of her/his arrival!

From tomorrow that organism called 'the three of us' will change in form, and I can only hope will metamorphose into something even more fun and exciting (and no doubt, exhausting) as it becomes a new creature - 'the four of us'. I have a faint recollection of when it was 'the two of us' but somehow I can't imagine it anymore, with 'the three of us' having taken over so firmly and completely! :)

Three

2009-03-21T22:19:00.000-07:00

Clearly blogging and child rearing along with the business of life itself are difficult to simultaneously sustain! It has been six months since my last post and its being increasingly tough to maintain track of Tara's growing-up business. I suppose photos will have to suffice for now until the writing juices are stirred within me and I can get myself to blog about some of the thoughts in my head (you know, the usual parent-of-3-year-old nigglings, things like the economy of birthday parties, choosing the 'right' school, allopathic medication, waiting at pediatricians clinics, coughs that just won't go AWAY, the art/craft/disaster of 'disciplining' them, the girl/boy thing, and so on).
Till then photo-documentation will have to suffice! So here she is, waiting for her birthday party to start, in a lovely dress (thanks to Hitesh and Ruchi) and pig tails that took a lot of patience for her to sit through. She turned THREE in February, and gosh doesn't she look quite the little lady?

Papa Was a Rolling Stone/ Mama Had a Feminist Bone

2008-09-12T21:13:00.000-07:00

Ten post-its from a feminist mother to her daughter.

1. Guard your freedoms fiercely. It was hard won.

You have been born into a radically different world from that of your mother or grandmother. You can vote. Be educated. Work in a range of professions, inherit property, exercise birth control, marry of your own choice, or not marry at all. You can expect to live without violence or discrimination and be treated with dignity and respect. And you can sue if you don’t get this.

It wasn’t always like this. Generations of women struggled for these freedoms. Don’t take it for granted. They can take it away. (There is historical evidence. The Taliban did.)

2. Wherever you will go it is likely you will see that a box shaped object emitting light and sound at high decibels and people sitting around it in fascination. That’s a TV. It is likely that you will come across all the serials which begin with the letter K. In these there will be pastry-coloured homes with many aunties wearing bangles and bindis, being nasty to one another while the uncles just watch resignedly. You will wonder how come you don’t see these kind of women around you in reality. omen are women’s worst enemies. This is not true. Women are women’s friends.

3. You may find in your text books that Papas seem to sit and read newspapers on the sofa while the Mama does the dishes, cooking, cleaning and takes care of you. You might wonder how this doesn’t always happen in your own home. Just because your Papa does housework, takes care of you, stays up the night when you cry, wears ear-rings and has long hair doesn’t mean he is less of a man. To the contrary. Remember, men can cook, love, cry, hurt, giggle. Sometimes they need a little help because they have been bound in an air-tight box called masculinity. When they escape that box, or begin poking holes in it, they will begin to live a fuller life. Help them do this in any way you can.

4. There was a lady called Kalpana Chawla who went to space. Even though she could not make it back, she reminded us that women and science are not like chalk and cheese. In your grandmother’s generation there was a feeling that science was for boys, and home science for girls. In my generation they stopped saying it, but they still thought it. Bollocks. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Remind me to watch two films with you. Bend It Like Beckham and Billy Elliot. I hope there will be many many more like these by the time you are old enough. As you will see, girls can play football (very well) and boys can dance (very well).

5. By now you’re probably wondering what all the fuss is over your body. Your body. Your body is an instrument, not an ornament, to paraphrase a popular rock singer from my time called Alanis Morissette. Dress up, look good if you want to. But for yourself. Not for men, society, your boyfriend. Don’t dumb yourself down. Don’t act like a bimbo because the guys like it that way, pretend to be weaker because that’s what they expect, and that’s what they give you more attention for. It’s not worth the extra attention. It fades you out.

6. There are very few jobs that require your girly parts. To paraphrase one old feminist aunty, “The only jobs for which no man is qualified are human incubators and wet nurse. Likewise, the only job for which no woman is or can be qualified is sperm donor.”

7. Ambition is a good thing. Don’t apologize for it. What it means if people try to tell you that ambition is not desirable, is that indirectly you are neglecting your ‘female’ duties as a mother or wife, and that is what you should be concentrating on and not your career. Because in their minds, that is what you are meant to do. They are wrong.

8. Ask tough questions. Protest freely. (Someone somewhere fought tooth and nail so you could.) You might feel the pressure to ignore sexist comments. You might even think you imagined it. (You didn’t.) If you are uneasy being a woman in a male-cultured workplace, share it. Don’t keep incidents of discrimination, sexist comments to yourself. Don’t feel embarrassed to raise questions of gender equality. You’re not ‘weaker’ for calling people on their prejudices and chauvinism, or for expecting people to treat you with respect and dignity.

9. It’s alright to say NO. (Except to me.)

10. Speak your mind and claim what’s yours. Set your own terms. Negotiate. Hustle. Don’t keep quiet because you are scared someone will call you names. Bitch. Witch. Slut. Feminist. That’s part of how the world shuts you up and chips away at your confidence.

Remember what I said. Guard your freedoms. They were hard won.

Class of '08

2008-07-24T00:17:00.001-07:00

(Click on picture to enlarge. Tara is front row sitting in the centre with finger in mouth and slippers off. She 'graduated' from Playgroup to Nursery in April this year!)

Two little words

2008-01-28T20:56:00.000-08:00

So it's all good that Tara can now have full conversations, tell stories, relate what happened today at school - everything short of discussing politics. But there are two phrases that have begun to really pop up in her chatter a lot. And they're not my favourite phrases.

One is "I want..." (chips, chocolates, juice, this toy, that book...)

And the other?

"I won't."

"Tara, please brush your teeth."

"I won't"

"Tara, eat your vegetables."

or "Tara, it's time to sleep! Come to bed."

"I won't."

What kids play with these days.

2007-11-05T02:32:00.000-08:00

Yes, that's Tara playing with her new favourite "toy". An i-Phone. I am sure Apple didn't intend for it to be for the amusement of toddlers, but it certainly works very well in that department. She can use the touch screen perfectly and knows just how to navigate herself to her photographs, our photographs... or some music perhaps?

It's not just the i-Phone. Forget blocks, play-dough or rubber duckies, we like to play with mobiles, digital cameras, remotes, laptops (oh and did I mention getting the CD tray in the music system to come out and go back in?)... technology for this generation is literally child's play. So much so that Tara's dad seriously shook his head and murmured to himself yesterday after unsuccessfully trying to pry his i-Phone out of her clutches... "Have to get her her own mobile. Maybe even before the tricycle."

How much culture is too much culture?

2007-11-05T02:06:00.000-08:00

You know that your child is getting a lot of culture when you say "Goodnight" while putting them to bed and they sleepily murmur... "Happy Eid". Happy Eid?

For the last few months there has been non stop cultural action where we live. And Tara has been lapping it all up! So first there was Janmashtmi which is big in Bombay, as crowds throng to see groups of daredevils make a human mountain to "matka phodo" (see picture below taken from our terrace) as the strains of "Govinda Alaa Re" are heard on every corner. (Especially from the temple stereo system outside our building.)

From Govinda Ala we went to Morya Re Bapa Morya Re as Ganpati Madness took over this city. Then as Ramadan came lights were strung up outside the entire street especially around the mosque - again, just outside our building. (We live at a place known locally as, whaddayaknow, Mandir-Masjid.)

As Eid crept up there was also Navratri to deal with. Another temporary temple was constructed next to the real temple and an idol of Santoshi Ma was installed, and a DJ belted out "Garba" numbers (Bollywood style) every evening as the cobbled street turned into a dance floor for hundreds of people swirling to the Garba. Then there was Durga Puja and Tara learnt to distinguish between "Jai Santoshi Ma bhagwan" and "Dugga Ma" (the ten hands of the latter made this easy enough.) So between, "Shubho Bijoya", "Happy Dussehra", "Eid Mubarak", "Ganpati Bappa Morya" Tara is in a cultural whirlpool.

It's not over yet. Diwali is round the corner and Christmas not too far away.
Oh well. Merry Diwali everyone!

A Calvin/ Hobbes Moment

2007-08-13T03:47:00.000-07:00

(Tara with Tiger, her most loved companion.)

An incident that happened today: Since Tara's communication skills are almost conversation-like now, I asked Tara in the morning what she wanted to take to playschool for lunch without really expecting a real answer.

"Apple aur gems," she replied confidently without batting an eyelid.

Apple and GEMS??

(Candy like chocolate M&Ms, for those unaware of the pleasures of Cadbury's Gems)

Lesson for today: Don't ask kids what they want for lunch. They won't say sprouts or nuts. Exercise your mummitarian authority and just give them those sprouts.

Technology and motherhood

2007-07-27T02:55:00.000-07:00

This post is incidentally not about Tara, but about me.

Motherhood is very different these days from what it used to be. (As my mother and mother-in-law never fail to remind me.)

One major difference is the range of technologies available to us to help make the experience "easier". New age mothers are very lucrative markets and the market knows that. While my position on "markets" is less than complementary I must concede that certain items of technological innovation leave me wanting to really kiss the maker. I would like to proffer my cyber-kiss to the following innovations in particular.

The first is the inventor of that fabulous thing, the breast pump, which sounds like a really torturous thing (and is a thing of great curiosity I noticed for non-mothers, who are quite keen to know if it hurts or not. I usually offer it to them to try, but none have taken up the offer yet.) but to those in the circle of users, it is a great release (pun unintended) from the iron clasp of new motherhood. Now, being a new mother is not easy for independent women. For the first time, someone is completely, unrelentingly, day-and-nightly, TOTALLY dependent on you. Even if the someone is a fuzzy little ball of adorable cuteness, it can get to you. The breast pump allows you to turn into a normal person once in a while, instead of the human lactating machine (or cow, as some will unkindly say as being the correct metaphor) you are socially expected to be. If you work with it, you can even stock up and go off for a weekend escape with friends or the husband, as I did on two occasions. It is a fabulous fabulous invention and allows women to go back to work after three months yet continue 'breast-feeding' their baby. Many good workplaces have maternity rooms, where you can go for 'pump breaks' through the working day if you are still feeding. There are electrical sockets for the machine in private cubicles as well as refrigerators where you can store the expressed milk until its time to go home, for use the next day to be fed to your baby (in your absence) while you are away again at work. That's what I call a gender-sensitive workplace.

The second innovation is the sterilizer. I admit, I did a little growl and bark routine at the husband for buying an expensive one from Singapore. My logic was that it's the same as boiling. And what's so difficult about that? Just put bottles, nipples, whatever in a pot of boiling water and there you have it. Sterilised. The Desi inexpensive way. Don't need an electrical steriliser for that, I pooh-poohed. How I ate my words in the coming months. That Pigeon Sterilizer became our faithful companion for the next few months.

Third is something we never really used more than twice because of some incompatibility with sockets or voltage or something. But I would see how it worked beautifully in other people's homes and the concept was just marvellous. It's the baby monitor - a walky talky kind of thing, a transmitting device with two phones. One is kept near the baby and the other you can take with you wherever you go within a certain distance range. So you have the baby sleeping in the bedroom, and you're out on the terrace with a glass of wine in your hand? No problem. If s/he wakes up and calls for you, you can hear it on your baby monitor. In case you want to keep it on silent mode, go ahead, a green light will blink and tell you if the chickita is up and creating a racket. No need to keep checking on the baby every few minutes, you can enjoy that wine peacefully. Have no fear, the baby monitor is here! (At one English couple's house in fact, we never even saw their baby. They always seemed to enjoy their evenings with only each other for company with their little one snug in bed in her own room, momentarily announcing her presence through the baby monitor on the odd occasion that she would wake up. I often wondered how they did it. Getting the baby to sleep at 7 pm. It's an amazing feat.)

Some other innovations also deserve mention. This special SMS reminder service that our pediatrician got us on that would send us a reminder about Tara's vaccinations that were due. Brilliant. And I can't possibly not mention the two incredible things that are the foundation of Tara's daily life - diapers and wipes. Diapers one can still be less enthusiastic about, but wipes. Ah. There are few crises that match the crisis of running out of wipes with none in stock. (Some of you will know what I mean.) So this one's for the inventors of baby goodies - anonymous inventors of crazy things and brands like Pampers, Pigeon and the hundreds of others that really are making it easier for us. Thank you and keep up the good work!

First month at Playgroup!

2007-07-11T00:43:00.000-07:00

Some pictures of Tara at Kidzee, her playgroup.

Playtime!

Snack time

Outdoor play

Getting ready for the Mumbai monsoons - learning about rain

The Nursery and Playgroup team poses for a group picture on Yellow Day

Everyday Life

2007-06-22T00:35:00.000-07:00

Caught red-handed! (Or Who Stole the Cookies from the Cookie Jar?)

2007-06-16T02:54:00.000-07:00

Forgotten Firsts

2007-06-12T03:26:00.000-07:00

Traditional parenting involves a keen attention to all the 'firsts' of a baby's evolution. For the more enthusiastic ones even a precise documentation of The Moment. You know, the first time they smile, flip, sit up, crawl, take a step, say mama/papa and so on. I am ashamed to say we have fallen behind tremendously in this department. At what age did Tara take her first step? When did she first utter a legible sound? Er. These kind of questions leave Tara's father and mother looking at one another blankly, not quite sure whose responsibility it was to have noted and documented, and remembered these details!

So here I am going to try to piece together for posterity, some from memory, some from digital aids (like a Cybershot viewer which tells you when a photograph was taken!) and some from general asking around, some of Tara's important and not-so-important Firsts.

First Holi: Sunday March 4th 2007 (thank you Cyber-shot viewer!) Saket house, New Delhi. Well, technically this is not her first Holi. (On her first Holi she was not even a month old!) But this was the one she was actually in her senses! Here she is enjoying her first gujias (they had to be hidden from her greedy clutches) with her first smears of gulal... Holi Hai!!

First time on an aeroplane: January 2007, Delhi to Mumbai. She didn't really get it this time round. Our excited attempts to point out planes on the runway were just met with bored stares. The second time however, later in April 2007, there was uncontrollable excitement and she was hooked.

First time on a train: February 2007. Rajdhani. Remarkably well behaved.

First time on a Mumbai local train: Yes. I've taken her on the legendary locals. Only once so far. Andheri to Grant Road. On some balmy afternoon in May 2007. Not something I will be repeating very soon.

First time on the beach: January 2007, Juhu Beach, Mumbai. In a pink and white tennis dress Tara met the wonder that is the sea as the sun set on Juhu beach. She gurgled with delight and wriggled with excitement as the waves licked her little ankles. (She is now a regular beach bum as this picture will show - that's Tara digging at Versova beach near our house.)

First day at her Playgroup: 3rd May 2006, at KIDZEE 7 Bungalows. She wore a pink dress and bloomers, mauve pumps, and a pink clip in her hair. (Which she lost three minutes thereafter.) She only cried briefly and forgot about us as soon as she was taken into a room full of kids singing nursery rhymes. (She is now a play-groupie currently enjoying her first Summer Hols. Here she is, not her first day, but the first day we managed to get her hair into two pony tails!)

First time she won a painting competition: End of term day 30th May 2006 at her Playgroup at the age of one year and almost four months. Tara made a scribble-fest with crayons of all colours UNAIDED and was declared the winner of the competition by popular voting as she was the youngest participant who had created her piece without any help from Papa (who had taken off to go to school with her for the end of term celebrations) or any of the Aunties.

First time paddling in her pool: Sunday afternoon some sundays ago!

New Beginnings!!

2007-05-21T02:34:00.000-07:00

Hello and welcome to a new look for Taraville.

There are many new things to welcome actually.

We are in a new city - Mumbai, that city with many labels (maximum, never sleeps, of dreams and so on) - where we have just relocated, from Delhi, that wonderful wide-roaded, sweltering, stunning-in-winter, city of extremes which is now part of our sweet memories.
(Tara is loving it, but we'll get to that later).

Tara is new at the playgroup she has recently joined.
I am 'starting afresh' in this city and exploring the many different avenues open to me to pursue. I am also reviving this blog anew after a break of almost eight months. A sense of new-ness surrounds us. It is both delicious and sharp like...hmm, like vinegar-soaked ginger.

I am not sure how to unfurl the quilt of events that have accumulated over the last many months. When I look back at this blog I realise that I have forgotten about the time when Tara had no neck control or couldn't crawl or did not know how to (or would not) eat! Within one year, things have changed INCREDIBLY. Tara is a real "little person" now. She listens, understands, loves, kisses, demands, complains, communicates, goodness even EATS (we never thought we would see the day). She is now one year and three months old.

Tara's first birthday was celebrated with family and friends at the Country Club in Sainik Farms and saw her in a pretty hat cutting a cake filled with coloured candied stars and kissing three handsome young boys (who rushed about blushing in embarassment afterwards). She discovered the joy of balloons on this occasion - and the deeper life lesson that balloons have a propensity to burst unexpectedly! Here she is at her party.

The first birthday as they say, is less for the child than it is for the adults! To some extent that is true (although Tara had a ball). And as Tara was tucked into bed after the party, the party continued for her parents and friends outside on the terrace as we raised a toast (and then some) to congratulate ourselves for making it through the first year of sleep deprivation and new kind of chaos in our lives. The end of the first year marked a closure of many many teething troubles of being new to parenthood and the beginning of forgetting those days. Cheers to us all!

Baby's Day Out II

2006-09-30T05:03:00.000-07:00

Look who's at the wheel... Dad teaches Tara the basics...

I get it Dad, don't crowd me...

This is easy... Turn up the music Mom...

See, one hand only...

So is this it? Gets a bit boring after a while, doesn't it...

Uh oh, where's everyone gone...

DAD!!!! MOM!!! Where is everyone...!!!

Baby's Day Out

2006-09-30T04:54:00.000-07:00

Tara goes out for lunch...

Hmm.... What's on the menu? she thinks ...

...Oh well, maybe I'll just have the spoon!

Er... my daughter ate my thesis?

2006-08-30T06:32:00.000-07:00

I've never had a dog. (I did have a baby brother though). And never had my homework eaten either nor have I used that excuse to cover up for homework not done. (Who am I kidding. I loved homework.)

But this time Airtel is going to either cut my broadband Internet connection or bombard me with phone call reminders (at all inappropriate moments) to pay my phone bill.
Aha. But WHERE is my phone bill?
It will have to be done.
I will have to call up an Airtel call centre and tell a disbelieving young operator -
Er... my daughter ate up the bill.

I can see the scene already. Five years of hard work, three hundred pages of my thesis, carefully formatted, saved from the clutches of the aggressive excitable paper eating tyrant, only to realise at the last minute, before going before the Review Committee.... horror of horrors, where was that chapter on the body? The third person on the right at the committee table asks me about the missing pages. I gulp. Smile sheepishly.

Er... my daughter ate up Chapter 5.

Oh well.

Another Name for Tara!

2006-08-22T07:50:00.000-07:00

There's something to be said for being half-Bengali (as Tara is).
You NEED to have two distinct names.
One is the 'bhalo naam' - or 'good name' to be used in all official documents, and in society in general. The other is the 'daak naam', or a 'home name', to be used 'unofficially' by family, friends and close people. (Now you understand what they mean when people ask you, "What is your good name, please? Bhalo naam ta ki?")

It is only befitting Bengali tradition that you will be burdened with a rather strange 'home name' that will embarass you till you are red in the face - especially when you turn 30 and god forbid, your name is either 'Baby' or 'Buri'. (We 30-year olds are a little sensitive on such matters.)Potol, Poltu, Bantu, Gogol, Dheblu... I believe the list borders on ludicrous. Those raised in Kolkata can enlighten you further. Or visit JNU and listen to the chatter around canteen tables, catch the names flying around fast and furious. The vegetable you order could well be the 'daak naam' of the person sitting at the next table.

Of course, you could also get lucky. I struck gold and was fortunate to be spared of the indignation of a Potol/ Gogol type name, and blessed with a beautiful 'daak naam', almost a full fledged 'bhalo naam'. If you don't know what it is... it doesn't matter!
Right now, the hunt is on for one for Tara.

The name "Tara" in itself was met with unsure responses. Tara? That's it? Nain-tara, perhaps? Or An-tara? Even Si-tara? But just 'Tara'? Yes. Just Tara. It is a bone of contention as to who came up with the name - S or I - but I think it was me. (I would.) Borne of a visit to the Kali Bari near Malai Mandir with Ma and Baba during my pregnancy, when after the delicious din of the dhak had died down, and the air still smelt of the smoky coal of an evening 'arati', a cry of 'Jai Ma Tara' rented the air. On inquiring after the name, I discovered it had various merits.

To begin with it was both local and global - deeply rooted in Indian culture and mythology (another name of the goddess Kali the receptor of a different kind of shakti - female energy, one of the five 'panchakanyas' who were strong women in mythology - Ahilya, Kunti, Draupadi, Tara, Mandodari, and of course meaning 'star', I have even discovered a deep connection to Buddhism), yet at the same time imbued with a simplicity and international (pronounce-able) appeal. It was also pronounced the same in Hindi and Bengali (and almost English), both the languages that are hers to own and discover at her own time and pace. It was, to us, perfect!

But still a real 'daak naam' eluded us. Jhunjhuni was the musical name used by aunts and uncles in CR park. S found that calling her Tingoo and Dingu amused her. Bui picked new names every day - matar ka dana, gulab ka patta, gol matol... Dada Dadi went with variations of chappu, tappu, chaanu... Hmm. Not working. It seemed that Tara would end up with many names-in-transit! But I still wanted another name for her, that meant something to me (who else do you have complete authority to name whatever you want??) - EVEN if I was going to be the only person calling her that! I waited patiently for some inspiration to come to me...

Some pics

2006-08-11T06:51:00.000-07:00

Some pictures from Pallavi mashi, Chhotto dimma, and Mesho Dadu

Learning to Eat

2006-08-11T06:16:00.000-07:00

I would have thought that eating was the most natural thing in the world.

Apparently NOT.

Tara is six months old and supposedly ready to 'eat' solids, says the paediatrician. Tara doesn't agree.

Considering she puts EVERYTHING in her mouth (newspaper, toys, sheets, clothes, cushions,the odd insect,her own fingers, other peoples fingers, her own toes...you get my drift) I didn't think she would have a problem putting some real food in her mouth for a change! But no...

Yesterday was the first (pureed) khichdi attempt, which met with DISASTER. There was no way she was going to put that khichdi in her mouth. She tried everything - squirming, making sorry faces, angry faces, deeply hurt sounds, pretended to gag, trying to tumble out of my arms and escape, spitting whatever little went in out... I tried making "yum yum" (very silly) sounds to make it appear appealing in the hope she would copy me. She didn't bite that bait either, and only looked more suspicious. I understand that pureed khichdi is not a gourmet delight, but still, it is just what the doctor ordered!
.
The battle will continue tomorrow. I am aware that there are more struggles ahead - once she actually gets it in her mouth, getting her to figure that she has to swallow, that this stuff is 'FOOD' which will fill her stomach and give her a most wondrous satisfaction (its only kind in the world) will be the next challenge!

I continue to be amazed at how the things we take for granted - walking, talking, languages, even picking up things, holding things, and of course EATING - are all learned. Through Tara's little victories (she is now dangerously mobile, wriggling about on her stomach and crawling a little on the knees) we see all that is normal in a new light. And get excited about re-discovering the world anew with her!

The Three Month Milestone

2006-07-31T04:44:00.000-07:00

When Tara turned Three Months we had ourselves a little tea party in the Navjivan Vihar house with fruit cream, pav bhaji, pakoras, and a lovely delicious cake (in the shape of a tiny pink mouse tucked into a white vanilla bed, looking a little like tara herself). Bui brought more gifts (someone tell her to STOP!!)Tara's Papa wore his special STAR T-shirt (also worn after the day of her birth).

Taraville

2006-07-27T20:37:00.000-07:00

the proud papa

The First Two Months

2006-07-24T23:46:00.000-07:00

Suffice it to say that the first two months were spent in a daze in Vasant Kunj characterised by:
acute sleep deprivation
crying by the little one
wondering if she could see us
Feeding Troubles (in capital letters)
some colic and the discovery of Bonnisan
getting to know one another
singing lullabyes (bhajans from Ma's repertoire)
cross eyed moments when she would try to focus (when Taramoni became Tera-moni, in Baba's words)
regular visits from Dada Dadi and Bua Phupha to shower adoration
Bua's visits almost every morning to keep our spirits up
visits to the paediatrician
vaccinations

and many many visitors who came with love, good wishes, prayers (and cash!) for Tara
as well as LOTS of gifts from family and friends!

Congratulations and Celebrations! - Messages from All Over the World

2006-07-24T23:20:00.000-07:00

Thank you to everyone who sent in such lovely

messages for Tara from all over the world!

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Manju & Dipok,Our granddaughter is so sweet! What is her name? Enjoy your time with her. Her parents should be very happy and proud!Keka & Amitabha (kuwait)

Dipokda & Manju,
We are touched to receive the mail. Thanks for the cute pictures.
Manas, Mita , Mom & Milky (kuwait)

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Dear Manjima and Saurabh,
Congratulations . I am so happy. Thanks for sharing the pictures of beautiful Tara. May God bless her.
Love
ismat jahan (holland)

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Lovely.....and congratulations again and thanks for the photos.

Here goes to Manjima and Saurabh for baby Tara

Precious one,
So small,
So sweet

Dancing in
on angel feet

Straight from Heaven's
brightest star
What a miracleyou are!

(from an anonymous untitled piece)

Warmly,
Amrita (Delhi)

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SHE'S BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Congratulations!!!! Can'twait to see her in person. What a beautiful name, too.

Sharmila Chakravarty (Mou) (boston)

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a big hug and congratulations!!! your baby looks so cute. i am so happy for you. i can't believe you are a ma!!

shaeli agarwala (new york)

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Hi Jhinuk,
the pictures are lovely. Thanks for sending them. I hope you and Tara are both doing well. I'm guessing you are home by now, trying to figure out diaper pins, burping and whatnot. With any luck she is going to be a happy easy-going baby who starts sleeping through the night in no time.

Congratulations to you and Saurabh, and kudos to whoever picked out Tara's name :-)

-bini
Binita Bhattacharjee (usa)

----
Thanks.
Anjoo & I saw the baby's pics. Even at 3 days, she is sweet and cute.
Let God bless her with all the best in life.

Subhash Bhattacharyya (bhopal)

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Woo-hoo! She's adorable....Congratulations to you both....but I'm afraid your dad already beat you tothe pictures...sent it to Baba who in turn forwarded it to me.....neverunderestimate the power of BCS.Hope you're all doing well. How many days have you got off? Keep us updatedwith photos....Love, Shreya. (usa)

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Jhinuk & SaurabhShe is absolutely beautiful yaar. Congratulations! Excellent job. You guystake care of yourselves.Miti & Apu. (singapore)

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Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooaoaoaoaaoaoaoaoahh!!!!!
Yay! She is so so so so so so so so so amazing, and peaceful. Fabulous name. fabulous you. Congrats on bringing her into the world. Yahooooooooooooooooo.
Oxoxoxoxo
Cate Buchanan (geneva)

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She is beautiful...Love the name Tara..I got all your details from Anvita & was meaning to call but you know buzy &lazy we all get...I am so happy for you & Saurabh..Take care & lots of love to you all & special love, kisses & hugs to lilTara :)
Shikha Sabharwal (new york)

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She's adorable!!! She looks exactly like Maa :) (my Maa that is, not herMaa). In fact, they could be identical twins.Love,~Roon (stanford)

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Dear Jhinuk,
OH MY GOODNES!!!!!!!!!!!!! she is so beautiful!!!!!!!!!! what a lovely little babay and so fair!!!!! and she looks so much like you too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was just thinking of you and was going to email buri to see if she had heard from you. i am so happy for you!! and you look very happy too!! how are your mum and dad???? please tell them i say hello. they must be so happy, your mum was so worried about you when i was in kuwait! thanks so much for sharing your lovely news with us. i hope diya and tara will be able to meet soon and be friends!
with all our love,

pupu and deep and diya
xxx (london)

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dear jhinuk,
this is the most wonderful news i have got in a long time.
may god bless saurav and u with all the happiness this little angel has brought in your lives , and may god bless with all the stars above onto this beautiful baby who looks no less than a miracle.
take care of yourself
love always.
papli and dev.

(kuwait)

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My dear manjima and tara

Lots of best wishes, love and good health to both of you on women's day. We area ll missing you also and some of us are really excited and would like to meet Tara as soon as you are back home (Navjiwan Vihar.)In the meantime take care of yourself and enjoy your time with Tara.

With lots and lots of love

Juhi (delhi)

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Amazing - she looks exactly like you!! When can I come and see her? Kalyani (delhi)

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Delighted to see photos of your lovely little Tara that Cate sent me. She is a real poppet.

With all my very best wishes,
Denise (australia)

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TARA in da hous

2006-07-24T02:24:00.000-07:00

6th February 2006, 3.25 pm.
Tara enters this world.

The message that went out to friends on e-mail:
"Some pics (on day 3) of our beautiful daughter Tara (another name of the Goddess Kali, also meaning star) who came into this world on Feb 6th at 3.25 pm!"

The Night Before, The Morning After

2006-07-24T01:26:00.000-07:00

On the night of 5th February 2006, a Sunday, we packed our bags and left for the hospital. They were to induce labour the next morning and Sonia, my doctor, had asked me to check in the night before. It was a quiet enough departure. We had spent the day hanging out at home. Watching some telly. Catching a film, I think. No fanfare.

We drew up at Sitaram Bhartia in silence. The cold January wind had eased and it was a pleasant night. Sitaram Bhartia was unusually quiet, wearing ample parking space and a deserted look. The guard at the entry wanted to know why we were there. We both looked at my nine month belly and back at him. Why indeed!

The reception was empty. When we finally found someone to initiate proceedings, a flurry of activity broke into the room. Another woman in her ninth month was coming to check in and had come with her whole extended family. A funny sight - the two of us with our bags, occupying very little space on one side and The Big Family on the other - mother, mother in law, brothers in laws, sisters, aunts, uncles...!

And so it began... The bureaucracy of birthing. Filling forms, signing papers, making advance payments, hospital gowns, IV drips, doctors-in-resident in Hawai chappals, nurses from Kerala with shy smiles, heart beat monitors that hummed loudly, ticker tapes, glucose ... S barely getting any sleep in the night and me lying prostrate surrounded by gadgets wondering wondering wondering...

To cut a long story short: labour began early in the morning and continued through the day. This is the part I DO remember quite a bit of! Parents from both sides arrived by 8 and visited in instalments and were duly advised to WAIT downstairs and fret about, but out of sight!
S and I laboured away in the Delivery Room. By 2 pm there was no progress even though the contractions were coming FAST and FURIOUS (for those of you who want to know - it hurts. it does.) S and Sonia took the call, and by 3 I was in line for a C-section.

As I was lumped from bed to stretcher to operating table like a bag of potatoes by men in green scrubs, my contractions continued. The anasthetist was Bengali and insisted on polite conversation. The last thing I remember before he put the needle into my spine was him asking me what my PhD thesis was on. I am not sure I replied.

I was awake through the operation, numb only from waist down. It was pretty much like watching from the wings. The team of doctors chatted while they went about their routine - about the weather, the rush, the rising price of onions, the bad traffic, everything in general and nothing in particular. One garrulous fellow guffawed: "Three more C-sections to go today! If only we could put carbon paper between them and just do the one on top!" Hmm.

They let out a sharp cry suddenly - all together. I had a vision of a stream of blood gushing out in a fountain from the cut they had made and flooding the room with the monitors beeping loudly in alarm. In the next heartbeat I heard a deep-throated guttural cry of indignation. A dark face in a surgeon's mask (later identified as our lovely paediatrician Sangita) with smiling eyes and a little black bindi above the eyes appeared in front of my face and held up the baby next to my cheek. A damp scraggly naked baby in a steady wail kicking its legs and giving me side glances, hair in damp disarray, looking seemingly irritated at being disturbed... I could have sworn it was my mother's face looking at me. "Congratulations! Here, meet your beautiful daughter." the masked face said.

Our little rock star daughter had been born!

Waiting to Exhale

2006-07-24T00:14:00.000-07:00

The memory is fading so let me bottle it in cyberspace quickly. I was pregnant until almost six months ago, and somehow I just can't recall anymore what it felt like to lumber around with the big belly, to squeeze into the driver's seat, to do pregnancy yoga exercises, to eat eat eat, drink chhonka, sleep through the afternoon, keep books like 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' and Nutan Pandit's notes by the bedside... It was all rather pleasant, and boringly uneventful (except for the occasional scare of the baby being ulta in a breech position).
There was no pain (the occasional backache and some problem in the ninth month turning sides in bed), just a calm anticipation. A contentment. An excitement. Awaiting the arrival of a 'little person', another witness to our lives.

A couple of weeks before the delivery we drove off to Neemrana to catch a little sunlight in the wintertime and laze on louge chairs by the pool chugging beer and lime soda. Gorge on aloo paranthas on the fort's parapets looking at fields below. It was a lovely trip and Gautam needs to post the pictures on this site. As the D-day drew near, the impatience set in. What would it be - a girl or a boy? What would she/he look like? Would we remember all the breathing exercises from lamaz class? The exhaling, the long breathe-in, short puffs out, and the final cry - 'out'. Would it hurt? (Clearly I had NO IDEA.) We could only wait, to find out.