Tough times don’t build character, they reveal it

These are tough times. Scientists and epidemiologists have urged us to wear masks, stay physically distanced and wash our hands frequently, to protect ourselves and those around us. 

America is one of the most developed countries in the world. We have more access to correct information than many others. We are technologically more advanced, our education system is world renowned, our society is more evolved. Yet I see/hear of so many intelligent, well informed people not following the guidelines, gathering indoors as a group without masks, eating at restaurants, gathering outdoors without a mask or being physically distanced, etc..What does this say to me about those people? Is it a lack of information? No. Is it a lack of intelligence? No. I think it’s a callous disregard for others. 

This virus requires us to act as one unit. We’ve heard of the Butterfly effect. A butterfly flaps its wings in one corner of the world and a storm occurs on the other side. We are all that interdependent for our survival. During these trying times, we need to work together, ironically by staying apart. What a cruel joke by the universe, huh? 

Instead of trying to be role models for our children to do the right thing, instead of providing the right information to the less informed, instead of doing the right thing, many of us choose to take the easy way out. The whole world will come crashing down on us if we don’t physically hang out with our friends. Right? Who cares if health care workers are sacrificing their lives to take care of the sick? Who cares if a poor bus driver dies of Covid thanks to a commuter who chose not to wear a mask? Who cares if a 5 year old child who just started kindergarten, dies because of the carelessness of some adult somewhere? Who gives a crap?? As long as our privileged lives aren’t inconvenienced, how does it matter to us if someone we don’t know, goes through living hell? Best part of all this, these guys are probably meeting for Diwali/Thanksgiving/Christmas with extended family and friends and talking about how bad Covid is, and how the government isn’t doing anything to help out. 

I am outraged that so many people I know, who I thought were kind and caring people, would be acting with such cruel disregard for others. I am outraged at people who take pride in their altruism, but wouldn’t wear a frigging mask or sacrifice a few months of entering homes of those who aren’t in their immediate household. I am outraged and I’m shaming every one of you who’s doing this. I thought we were better than this. Apparently not. 

Our kids are going to be ashamed of us. A whole generation of young children are going to suffer long term developmental challenges because they aren’t able to go to school and learn vital social skills. There are innumerable developmentally challenged children, kids that are being abused at home, who desperately need to be in school, who aren’t, because we didn’t do our part to contain the virus. We already trashed up the planet for them by our selfish and inconsiderate actions.. Why not continue that irresponsible behavior and make their future as bleak as we possibly can!!!

Yes, tough times don’t build character; they reveal it. 

I don’t know why such a big to-do is being made about Sridevi’s cosmetic and physical changes, after her death, before even determining they were the cause. Wonder if the same thing would be said about Shahrukh/Aamir when they pass away. Don’t men use steroids and artificial means to enhance their physical attributes? While she was alive, I didn’t read much about her cosmetic surgeries. Everyone went gaga over her appearance. Now that she’s dead, instead of reminiscing  about her acting skills which brought great joy to so many people, or talking about her as a human being who was genuine and caring, or a mother who left behind two devastated daughters, it’s very sad that people choose to pass judgement on her physical appearance.
I’m reminded of Jesus’s words, “Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone”. Who among the people, who criticize her, haven’t gone the extra length to appear handsome, well built, or beautiful? Human race has become obsessed with their bodies. Everyone wants to appear younger/ slimmer/prettier/more muscular than they actually are. So why throw stones at that poor lady who can’t even defend her choices anymore. Yes, this is a good opportunity to reflect on the pressure that we put ourselves and others through, to impress another person, but let’s not point fingers at someone who’s dead and can’t speak up for herself anymore.

Aging gracefully

I just read an article talking about people coloring their hair as they got older, in order to look young, fit in with the younger crowd, etc. (http://mommygolightly.com)

I don’t disagree with the author’s choice to stay gray and age gracefully. Kudos to her for that. I take issue with her harsh and judgmental tone. I thought it was a very self-righteous stand to take. The author says, “Vanity notwithstanding, I have a fundamental problem with constantly curating oneself so your children or other people think of you in a certain way.” However, in the previous paragraph, she says, “I have enough trouble keeping up with my eyebrow-upper lip-waxing cycles. I don’t need coloring to add to that.” Doesn’t eyebrow-upper lip waxing count as vanity? My point here is not just about hair coloring. I wish that people wouldn’t pass harsh judgments on those who don’t think like them.

People dress up, not just because it makes them look good, but also because it makes them feel good. It gives some people more confidence in themselves when they look well groomed or look “young”. If coloring their hair helps them feel that way, who are we to judge? Just as those who grow old gracefully do not like to be judged for not coloring their hair, I’m sure those who go to their grave, kicking and screaming and fighting nature, wouldn’t like to be judged for their choices either.

Human beings by nature, are vain. The vanity level differs from person to person. One may be completely comfortable in his/her skin and not succumb to any artificial methods to look better than what nature has endowed them with. Another might go in for the whole package, botox, liposuction, etc… Many choose the option in between. I say, live and let live. Who are we to psycho analyze other people’s choices and pass judgment on their insecurities and weaknesses? Making statements like “… and it looks pathetic, with their sagging skin, warts and tired eyes…” doesn’t sound graceful.

Aging gracefully doesn’t refer just to our physical appearances. With age, comes wisdom and acceptance. Along with our graying strands, let’s embrace the wisdom that comes with aging. We all live in glass houses. Let’s not throw stones at each other and instead, be accepting of others’ choices, however undignified it may seem to us.

Accept the situation…

My father is in the hospital. He fell and hurt himself in the same spot where he had hip replacement surgery – twice. He had to undergo surgery now for the third time in the same area. My mother’s knees are severely damaged. She needs replacement surgery for both knees. She is barely able to walk… A dreadful situation for any child living far away from parents, more so for an only child.

I’m in a dilemma. I was planning to go in a couple of months to India, to help her during her surgery. What do I do now? What is the right thing to do? Go now and help them during this period, or wait and go in August and get her long overdue surgery done? My cousin and mother tell me to wait till August…that they will manage somehow.

To complicate matters, June to August is peak summer reading time at the library where I work. Every hand is important at work during this time. Over the past years, I have already taken a couple of summers off – once for my father’s surgery and once for my illness. I’m trying not to put my co-workers through yet another year of taking over my programs and filling in for me, in addition to the overload of duties they have, over the summer.

My cousins and uncle and aunt are taking care of my parents’ needs at the moment. He goes home in a couple of days, but needs strict bed rest for the next 3 weeks. I have requested my cousin to find fulltime help to take care of my dad. My extended family is admirably doing what needs to be done, in spite of having a multitude of problems in their own lives.

“How are you doing?” People ask me. How am I to answer that question? I just spoke to my parents. My father is in great pain. My mother is confused with all the advice she has been receiving from all directions. She hasn’t slept properly in days.

Feelings of guilt and helplessness overwhelm me and put me in visceral anguish. I suddenly feel the urge to hold my head tightly between my hands and scream as loudly as I possibly can. I’m burdening my cousin with my responsibilities. I’m not there for my parents when they need me. I want to rush to India on the next flight. But I need to think practically and logically. Look at the big picture. Jeopardize my job and go now or hang in for a couple more months and go in August? Go and take care of them now and postpone my mother’s surgery to next year? What if they are not able to handle the situation now? What if she gets worse? How will they manage? What do I do? What do I do?

While this debate is going on in my head, life goes on. I smile cheerfully at the little kids in the library. I’m trying out different kinds of laughter and accents for my role in the funny skit we put up during our annual school visits to promote our summer reading programs. I work on decorating my superwoman cape in pink. I furiously get all the crafts and activities ready for my programs. I entertain my daughters’ friends. I talk to them about movies and TV shows and books.

I think about my predicament. I can either surrender myself to the universe and accept the situation, or I can resist it and feel horrible about it all the time. It doesn’t change the situation in any way. When I look it at it this way, things get a bit clearer. I decide to go with the flow. I have told my cousin to let me know when things get a little too difficult to handle. That I will be on the next flight. I know I will be criticized by a lot of people for not being there. Well, everyone is entitled to their opinions. I cannot control what others say or think. 

When sudden feelings of sadness or guilt gush in, I allow them in. I breathe deeply. I make a conscious effort to recognize those feelings in me. I don’t resist. After a few moments, the feelings pass and I feel peaceful. I try to focus on what I'm doing at the moment and carry on with my life until the next feeling of pain passes through me. It could be guilt, it could be helplessness, it could be sadness. Or all three. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, I allow it to ebb and subside at its pace. All I do during those moments, is to slow down my breathing. I don't know if this is the right way to deal with my problem. But this is the only way for me, at the moment. 

I came across this quote recently, “It takes a lot more courage to let something go than it does to hang on to it, trying to make it better. Letting go doesn't mean ignoring a situation. Letting go means accepting what is, exactly as it is, without fear, resistance, or a struggle for control." Easier said than done. It takes phenomenal effort, but I’d like to think I’m a work in progress.

Amazing Race

Reposting my blog written about 10 years back about my experience at the NYC marathon 2005...

First and foremost, I need to congratulate my husband Partha, (a many time marathon finisher himself) the world's best coach and the world's best husband. He took a couch potato out of the couch and made her run and finish a marathon. No mean task if you knew me! I'm the most indisciplined, disorganized person I have ever come across. I have a lot of interests - as long as they don't involve physical activity and exerting my body...
One of my favorite quotes used to be "Never stand when you can sit, and never sit when you can lie down." I also have a list of health problems, the length of the course itself! So you can imagine the "marathon" effort on Partha's part.
My girls - I'm very very blessed to have such awesome children! They inspire me, they motivate me, they cajole me, they comfort me, they congratulate my every small effort, they scold me if I hit the lazy button, they fix their own breakfast on our weekend long runs, they help me a lot around the house just so I can concentrate on my run; I could go on and on about them...

I've been suffering from labrynthitis for a long time now. It causes severe dizziness and nausea and imbalance and extreme fatigue. Added to that, I have arthritis in my left leg and exercise induced asthma. Training with all that was very difficult and Partha used to go with me on my long runs just in case I got dizzy and fell somewhere on a lonely road. I wasn't able to look to the left and right for oncoming traffic because of my positional vertigo. He would go ahead of me and give the green signal to cross every road. It was like I had peripheral blindness! A week or two before the marathon, I developed severe pain in my left leg. I rested it as much as I could, but two days before the marathon, on my way to the city to pick up my race number, I made a desperate plea to a sports doctor to see me because the pain seemed unbearable. He made time for me and immediately recommended an Xray and told me that I had a stress fracture and that if I ran, I should be prepared for extreme pain. My threshold for pain is pretty high. So I thought I would be ok and went ahead anyway.

Race day - Partha dropped me off along with his brother who also ran with me. He is the CFO of a software company in Bombay and works long hours. He is another "crazy guy" who came all the way from Bombay just to run the marathon and that too with just 2 months of training in the "wonderful" roads of Bombay. You really need to be very highly motivated to train in Bombay, especially during the rainy season! He also had some problem in his legs. To add to the confusion, his mother fell down in the kitchen and hurt herself so badly that she needed a surgery to her leg. This happened just a week before the race. So he had his own list of problems which he can describe better himself.

I started slowly because the slower I run, the later the pain would set in. I asked my brother-in-law to go ahead at his own pace while I went at my own. At the 8th mile, I got the expected pain. Struggled till the 11th mile when I finally found some Tylenol at a medical aid station. Although it didn't help me much, psychologically, I felt better. At around mile 16, I started developing dizziness. At mile 17, I met Partha and the kids, recharged my battery with their words of comfort and cheer. Held on for another mile or so when the whole world started spinning around me. At the water station, had to stop and throw up. Had no idea where I was. The volunteers wanted to know if they had to call my family, but that would mean giving up. And I wasn't ready to do that. So I said I was fine, and went on. Adrenalin really started kicking in at that point and it was all mental from that time onwards. I actually picked up speed after the 20th mile. Met Partha and the kids again at the 24th mile. Felt very reassured that they would be there to pick up whatever was left of me after mile 26! Finished in 6 hrs 3 mins finally!! When a volunteer came to put the medal around my neck, I asked her, " Are you sure I'm done? are you really sure?" She laughed and said, "Yes you are! and here is your finisher's medal." I cannot describe the high I felt at that moment. Everything seemed so surreal.

This is a very tough course and I'm very proud I finished it inspite of all my problems. I'm sure every single person of the 37000 odd people who ran, have a story behind their run. I do hope my account inspires atleast one of you to take up the challenge and run a marathon, or a half-marathon or take up running. If a couch potato with health problems can do it, anybody can! Running is one sport where you don't need company, you can go at your own pace, you don't need to compete with anyone, you don't need too many expensive paraphernalia except a decent pair of running shoes, is a wonderful way to keep yourself fit and happy. It releases the "happy hormones" and gives you a feeling of joy every time you complete a run, be it a mile or a 2 mile or a 20 mile. But one piece of warning though - It can be very addictive and don't blame me if you get hooked onto it. It's also a lonely sport, but a lot of people run while listening to music.

The NYC marathon is such an incredible experience that no amount of flowery words and adjectives would do justice to it. It's the Wimbledon of running. And to think I got a chance to run there, I'm indeed lucky! Next time, I'm hoping to run for a cause close to my heart. I didn't want to commit to anything this year, because I wasn't confident of running until the last day. But now that I've done it once, I want to do it all over again and for a good cause which will motivate me to give it my best shot.

Have fun, everyone and be good!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY APPA!!

   

My father turns 80 on May 25th, 2014. He is a good, kind man, an ordinary man with strengths and shortcomings like all of us, living his life under the radar like many other people.  In this world of instant celebrities who become famous for no reason, I think it’s important that once in a way, we shine the spotlight on ordinary folks who live their lives with dignity and kindness, and are making a difference in the lives of those around them, albeit very quietly and with no acknowledgement or accolades whatsoever. When I think of my father, I am reminded of Mother Teresa’s words - “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” He always looks for opportunities to be of service to his fellow beings. He isn't a rich man, but lack of money never stops him from caring for his fellow beings. So I thought his birthday is a good time to share a few instances in his life, when his little everyday acts made a difference in someone's life.

A few years back, there was this really wrinkled little old lady, who was a municipal worker and pushed a cart up and down the roads, picking up garbage. The road opposite my dad’s place is a little steep. So he would wait for this old lady to come every morning and help her push the cart up the road until she reached downhill. Some neighbors came up to my dad and hinted that it is not good for a respectable brahmin gentleman to push a garbage cart up the road every day. They backed off when my father said, “I’m just giving her a hand” and started lecturing them on what THEY should do and shouldn’t do..

On their street, there was a stray dog that had a broken leg. Mean kids used to stone the poor dog that was unable to run away to save himself. My dad would stand outside the gate and shoo those kids away and let the dog inside his compound. He'd get some dog biscuits and bun every morning for the dog. The dog would happily hang out there for as long as he wanted, and then go away on his street trips. He'd somehow find his way back to my place every time the kids attacked him. When they were getting ready to visit me in the US, he would worry that the kids would start hurting the dog again. Somehow God was kind to the dog and he miraculously passed away a few days before they left on their trip.

There was a small elementary school near their house, but unfortunately, no proper space for the children to each their lunch. On seeing the little ones sitting on the roadside for lunch, he'd invite them all inside his compound to sit comfortably and enjoy their lunch.

My father is like a little kid and doesn’t realize that age is catching up with him. He has had two hip surgeries, a prostate surgery and two heart procedures in the past 7 years, and still tries to climb up the water tank on the terrace to help the boy cleaning the tank. His reasoning - “the young man is disabled. I am just giving him a hand.”

When we lived in Chennai, we had a maid, about my age, who worked for us for many years. For some years, we experienced severe water shortage and she had to make several trips to pump water from a pump downstairs and bring it up two floors to my house. My parents and I would always go down with her and help her get the water up. My dad would say, “She is a young girl like you. Come on, let’s give her a hand!” That girl was so touched by this that she began calling my parents Amma and Appa. She started taking on the role of my older sister and would make me help my mom in the kitchen, while she was doing the dishes. After I had kids and would visit my parents’ home, she would bring presents for my little ones.

During my orientation at my first job at the Indian Railways, I met this girl who looked very sad and ill and mostly kept to herself. Upon striking a conversation with her, I found that her father had recently passed away and she had gotten this job through the compassionate quota.  She had just been diagnosed with a debilitating neurological illness and her mother and brother, more concerned about their survival, were pressuring her to give up her job in favor of her brother. I was shocked to see her in this state and told my parents about her. With their help, I managed to persuade her to get a comprehensive evaluation done at the Railway Hospital. She was admitted there for several weeks and underwent multiple tests to diagnose and treat her condition. Her mother and brother visited her exactly once! My dad’s office wasn’t too far from the hospital. So we worked out a routine by which my mother would get food ready by 6 am and my dad would drop me off at the hospital with the food at 7 am. I would spend an hour with her, and go to work from there. Evenings, I would meet my dad at the hospital, and he would bring me back home. On weekends, when my mother was off from work, she would accompany us to the hospital and we would spend some time with her together as a family. With good treatment, her condition seemed to improve. Until my father pointed it out to me, I had not realized that this girl not only needed medical attention, but also the love and care of a family. She would always look forward to my dad's evening visits when he would cheer her up with his silly jokes. My parents were happy to have her stay with us permanently, but she wanted to go back to her family and take care of them.

I would need to write a whole book if I have to narrate every incident in his life where he has helped someone in his own little way. My dad’s philosophy is very simple. "It's alright if you cannot perform magnificent deeds. Not everyone can be a Gandhi or Mother Teresa. But make it a habit to be useful to your fellow beings every day." According to him, “help” is too big a word for what he does. He is just making himself useful. Unfortunately these past few years he hasn’t been keeping too well and is unable to do much on his own. My cousin has been helping my parents a great deal and he now very often finds himself at the receiving end of kindness.

I wanted to write this article, not just to highlight some of my dad’s acts, but use this opportunity to put my hands together and acknowledge the millions of ordinary people like him who always watch out for those around them, who shine their light of kindness upon this world and make it a brighter place for all of us. I know many such people among my own family and friends and I thank these unsung heroes from the bottom of my heart, for all that they do. Mahatma Gandhi said, “In a gentle way, you can shake the world”. That is exactly what these folks are doing.

Those Tiny Moments...

I've heard that if one of our senses is compromised, the others get busy sharpening their tools. I have been experiencing this since the past several months while I have been ill. My sense of joy and sense of humor seem to realize that they have extra work to do during the short periods of time they are allowed to surface, before the dark beast of pain overtakes my mind and body. 

The “problem” with this, is that I have begun to enjoy household chores a bit more than I should, when I get these short bursts of energy in the morning. It would have been good if I had wanted to sing and dance, but I want to load the dishwasher!

I enjoy scrubbing the grease off the dishes. If there are not enough dishes, I look into my fridge to see if I can coax some bowls out of there, and if there’s not enough grease...oh well, better luck next time.

I enjoy wiping my counter tops. I see a tiny crumb of food, there I am, like the Goddess Durga with multiple weapons in her hand. Mine happen to be a bottle of vinegar, some baking soda and a cloth or paper towel.

I have the urge to cook everything from scratch. I get busy roasting, toasting, grinding and steaming. My family enjoys these meals too because they don’t know when the next good meal will come.

I laugh at every opportunity I get. When I step out and look at the clouds, some of them seem to be making silly faces at me. If I don’t see the clouds, I make my own silly faces and take selfies that no one but I will ever get to see.

I look outside my window and see the barren trees as they wait patiently for spring to arrive. Sometimes they are stiff like the guards outside Buckingham Palace, sometimes they are waving their branches around like little kids. I look at the piles of snow outside and imagine that I’m an Olympic skier dashing down the hills in pursuit of her first gold medal. Scratch that. I don’t like skiing. I just want to take a shovel and have a go at that pile.

I thought I could never live without coffee or chocolate or oats or sugar. But here I am, alive and not missing them as much as I thought I would. Instead, I am enjoying the food I am allowed to eat. Sometimes, it takes me half an hour to eat a banana. But in that time, my taste buds enjoy a little dance, jumping from flavor to flavor – the sweetness, a bit of sourness, even a hint of bitterness.

The point I am trying to make here is that I have begun to enjoy every nitty-gritty, greasy-squeasy part of life. It’s like life has given me a huge magnifying glass to zoom into every single painless moment and suck in every bit of joy I can find in it, before I go back to my bed, whimpering in pain, begging God to have mercy on me.

Life is filled with moments of pain, sorrow, joy, laughter, fear and anger. It's upto us to hit Ctrl+ and zoom into those tiny, wonderful, positive moments, be thankful for them and enjoy them as much as we can.