My German Class

My German class is so interesting.
It had 14 members initially but 2-3 people dropped off in the middle so now we are just 11 in the whole class.

The first one is Beh-jad from Iraq.
She didn’t tell us her age but she is roughly 40 yrs or more. She looks so severe and heavy masculine featured almost like a Babur or Humayun type female with  a big, heavy square face, very severe features, hair pulled so tightly back from the forehead that you can actually see their roots and forever a stern expression that well scares you out. She is polite enough and applies well at studies but definitely she is not one to pick a fight with. She seems well capable of beating the life out of you with her expression alone.
Just too often, she appears to be cursing the teacher for making her do exercises and etc.
I often steal looks at her and want very much to draw her face.

Marieta from Kosovo
She is one pretty, sexy lass with a sexy figure and an attractive face even though her features are not good at all. She is also very sweet and simple natured. Funny thing is she has a German husband for more than 3-4 years but still knows no German at all. I delight watching her taking an extensive body stretch with a long yawn after every exercise and it’s a record : whenever she is addressed by the teacher she starts violently and then in vain tries to locate where the class was reading the so and so passage from until the teacher beseeches,” Merita, bitte”
Its so hilariously funny…!

Next is Aziza from Kosovo. A youngish strictly burka clad pregnant woman who I never knew was pregnant because she wore such huge gents shirts. Can you imagine a woman of size 36 wearing gents clothes size xxxl..?
I used to think she must be sort of poor types to wear clothes of her husband. Nothing interesting about her except just the dress part. She remains quiet until spoken to by the teacher, has no friends or if she has, she doesn’t speak to them and does okay at studies. It makes absolutely no difference to class whether she is present or absent.
Anyways, she didn’t appear in her test as she is in the final stages of her pregnancy. Good luck to her.

Waheeda from Afganistan.
She was an Indian looking type female who knew a tiny bit of Hindi courtesy watching Indian Cinema. She was also pregnant so she dropped out.

Lendita form Kosovo.
She is a smart woman of more than 40 years. Looks great, speaks great, has a very attractive powerful sort of voice that makes you want to look again to see who is speaking. She is a very good student too. I have seen her taking much pains at making daily notes. Earlier she wasn’t interested in talking to me but when she realized that I solved the exercises quickly and correctly she started befriending me. Now she and I sit together. During lessons and even during tests she likes peeping in my book and make corrections in her own answers. During class exercises and conversation drills, simulations and roll playing we like talking to each other almost always giving the best, funniest or most interesting examples.

Mehtab G.
 A smart, well dressed, perfectly capable of looking after herself, worldly looking woman who can speak nothing but Turkish. Although staying in Germany since 9 consistent years and then spending another 7 months in Deutsch SprachSchule in addition to working too, she has been painfully unable to learn anything beyond “Wie heissen sie?” Even this question at times cannot be framed in the right manner.  It has not yet been established whether her inability ensues from willful ignorance or some genetic cause. However, she rarely  does her Hausaufgaben, rarely responds correctly and really never applies her mind or attention in class towards studies. On top of it, she wears such an accursed, impatient, irritated plaguey expression on her face that clearly seem to be telling what choicest of abuses she is mentally hurling at the teacher for making her suffer and appears to want to murder in cold blood all those students who actively participate in class.
Whenever she is asked any question by the teacher, she immidietly askes Fatma, another turkish woman, what the teacher has asked, then she gets the answer from Fatma in German and merely repeats it.
In yesterday’s test, when the teacher asked her to make a sentence on 'cycle' in German , she said her cycle has gone for a walk…and we all had to keep looking normal even after this.
As a teacher, I think such a pupil can be quite sickening!

Thido comes from Vietnam.
She is normal looking girl in all respects but wait until you hear her speak. She hideously pronounces ‘S’ as ‘F’ and ‘T’ so schreiben becomes treiben or freiben, zur as shooor, heissen becomes heiten, and so on. to add more to my enjoyment and the teacher’s woes, she speaks faster than the metro train, so it is practically impossible to understand her. Her speech sounds more like bud boot bud boot of water furiously boiling than any normal human language.
Today the teacher asked us to make any sentence using 'because' in German; well, Thido made the sentence, 'I cannot speak good German because German is a bad language !'
The teacher looked so offended !

Chancel from Turky comes next.
She is in early 40, sensible, normal in every aspect, student type who works to learn something but neither too much of it nor too little.

Fatma is from Turkey too.
She is sincere and feels intimidated that there are so many difficult things to learn and master in German.  She has a beautiful little baby daughter whom she loves breastfeeding in full public glare ( at least in the school) with her breast fully exposed to onlookers and which she sometimes even forgets to tuck back in after having finished the feedings. This helped H to discover that there is something women have there which babies rather like !
But apart from that she is really a nice girl. And she does not like Mehtab at all her usual sentence being” 9 years in Germany and still can’t learn heisse heisst?” She also praises me a lot for my ability to learn quickly and retain it.
Alia. She is also from Turkey.
She is a shy, sweet looking youngish girl but has 3 children. She dresses very nicely.  God only knows how she manages to apply so much of make up with 3 children at home. She too strives hard to learn but has her limits. She pronounces very solemnly ‘vater’ as ‘faataah’, ‘mutter’ as ‘motaah, ‘schwester’ as ‘shwetaa’  and ‘haben’ as ‘hhaaaben’ which I rather enjoy imitating at home.

Hurriye from Turkey again. Seems like whole of Turkey has immigrated in Deutschland !
She is pretty looking girl who likes to dress fashionably and speaks good German, learns good enough, solves pretty well all the exercises and has a good lively sense of humor. A nice girl.

Amira from Iraq.
A typical veil wearing muslim women with kohl lined eyes and sharp features and also sharp in behavior. She easily fights or argues, speaks German a lot even though if it is wrong in Grammar, strives really hard to do well in class. The funny part is she speaks German quite easily but reading gives her the jitters. She may have been saying  a word correctly but on seeing it written can’t make out what it is. So her reading goes like,” sc..sch..scr…schr…schra…schri…bane !!!
And she is one great gossip. For every sentence a teacher speaks, Amira has at least 2 stories to tell.
An interesting character.

Drenusha is from Kosovo and she is ok types, not very regular student so she isn’t one of the interesting characters one loves to hear or talk about.The only interesting thing I know about her is that her children eat hot dogs daily...in breakfast...!

My German Teacher

My German teacher is really very nice. She is a wonderful teacher.

At fifty six years of age, she is  neither young nor beautiful but tremendously smart and always equally smartly dressed. She is very cheerful natured, concerned, sympathetic, encouraging and is also physically very active and energetic. She takes such pains to make us understand, remembers to appreciate us for our every effort no matter how little it is, strives hard to instill correct pronunciation and above all this she is very affectionate towards all of us.

I love the way she professionaly dresses in trousers, jeans,  shirts and coats and a silk scarf tucked in the neck with a dignified pearl or metal necklace visible discreetly. I wish I could also wear a scarf like she does. It becomes so much on her !

I don’t know how is it, but I have a sort of habit of respecting and loving my teachers blindly, in fact I almost hero worship them just for no reason but that they are my teacher! I started admiring her since the very first day and even told her that I thought she was a great teacher.

I can’t help comparing her with my Dutch teacher Sofie in Belgium. She was a complete antithesis to Martina, my German teacher; she was least bothered about her students, never explained deep and far, was never sympathetic and never appreciated. She had no bonding with the students at all. I rather like blaming my bad Dutch all on to her.

I feel I am so lucky to have Martina.

Learning Dutch...!!!

I had always wanted to learn French and German due to some inner fascination for England, France and Germany ( next comes Italy and Spain !)
I lived in Bangalore for about two and half years and another two years in Pune but the idea of learning Kannada or Marathi was plainly revolting; Kannada is too harsh sounding and tribal lingo type while Marathi sounds like rustics. A language that does not sound attractive, pleasing and polite to one's ears is certainly not worth taking any trouble to learn.
The first opportunity of learning another language came to me when I went to Belgium. Belgium is a small country with large number of people speaking French too. To prevent their native language Dutch from disappearing altogether the Government there is pretty firm on making every immigrant or foreigner learn Dutch entirely free of cost.
I took an avid interest in learning and found Dutch to be very soft sort of language in terms of sound. Many words sound like English gone sour like lemons like North- nord, south- sud, doctor- tochter, short-korts, market-markt. I have discovered I am a sort of born student; I love my class, love my teacher, and simply love anything about studying. My teacher was Sofie, a somewhat pretty girl in her thirties or maybe late twenties and as heavily pregnant as if carrying sextuplets.We were around 15-18 students in the class and I happily remember most of them. Mel from USA, Deborah and Suewellyn from Brazil, Fabiola from Spain, Mustafa and Mohammad, Ahmed from Egypt, Marcie from Iran and then five Indians Savita, Preeti, Silky, Swati, and myself. Savita was doing the first module a second time having dropped off the first time before completion. It was always funny to watch her painful struggles at pronouncing the simple word ' het '. She would pronounce it anywhere from 'hat', ' hut', ' hart',' hurt' or ' hit' except just the right one. I had to seriously remember all these funny pronunciations in order to be able to replicate them in front of S to tell him what fun I had in class. The other Indian gals blandly showed up insolently late for every class and thought it was ok to make fun of the teacher and the outlandish words; so while these were not serious enough, there was Deborah who was far too serious to be comfortable. She was super good, always right, always gave right answers, solved all the exercises and was never wrong and was always studying. She consequently gave the impression that her whole objective of taking birth was to learn Dutch.
The most memorable and nicest one of the whole lot was Marcie, a sweet, shy, scared, reticent, unsure type of girl from Iran who didn't know much English either, just her native Persian.So she carried three dictionaries: Persian to English, Persian to Dutch and Dutch to Persian in addition, her husband translated her entire lessons in Persian.

Despite a mysterious  reverence and love for all my teachers, I will have to admit Sofie was a 'slecht lerares' or 'bad teacher'. That she was too preoccupied because of  her pregnant state or had always been like that naturally  I really cannot tell but she rarely took interest in class. She made lessons dull and boring and never helped students to grasp or learn. So the outcome was, our classes were mercilessly unending and Sofie's speech entirely incomprehensible. When the class ended everyday, instead of feeling relieved, I used to feel grossly depressed and tense that I was understanding or learning nothing.

Incredibly though, I passed off my first module successfully but had to opt out of the second module due to my own pregnancy. Learning Dutch not only became a memorable experience in itself,  it also proved to be highly beneficial to me later on, not only in day to day routine life in Belgium and Netherlands but also in Germany !
Knowledge never goes waste. True

Some Overbearing Women..!!

Women are everything that spells love, care, sympathy, nurture and affection but not all women fit this category. There is a particular specie which is in fact quite to the contrary. I have noticed that particularly overbearing wives are the worst of them all; their behavior is pathetic towards their husbands; they despise, insult, humiliate and control their husband as a military commander with a whiplash in hand.

I know of several women in my acquaintance whose husbands I feel deeply sad for. I wonder how those men can allow themselves to be treated thus.

My student's father who was a millioner businessman had a vicious wife. She scolded him like a street dog in front of all domestic servants and was so overbearing that if anyone of the office staff forgot to wish her she demanded her husband to immidietly fire the employee; furthermore, she would not allow him to hire any female employee, not even for the post of a receptionist and actually got a man installed in the office to keep watch on him like a detective.

My music teacher is an exceptional singer and an instrumentalist and we all students had so much loved his music but his wife hates the same and has banned him from singing or playing any music at home or accept any home tuitions for music. Tragically, he had to give away or sell his many beloved musical instruments which he had at one time spent a fortune in collecting. He dolefully says now, " Before my marriage I was Asim. After my marriage to Rekha I have become Rekha. Asim has died somewhere within me."
An uncle of mine is an artist and you should see how his wife hates his art or everything related to it. Many a times his tools are thrown in the trash bin.
A distant cousin of mine has a wife who he is terribly afraid of; so whatever he does he never tells her for fear of getting scolded. On the other hand the wife strives hard to know what he does by following the back staircase method. Must be a cat and dog situation all the time !!
A friend of mine had strictly forbidden her husband to talk or make/recieve calls from his female students or even in social gatherings. If she even by chance saw him talking to any girl she would turn real ugly with rage. Once a girl just happened to praise her husband's shirt and you know what, on returning back she took a pair of scissors and cut the shirt in 1000 pieces. On another occasion, he randomly praised the sandwich a girl had offered him and then that poor fellow had to eat ONLY sandwiches in all the meals of a day for a whole week. Another acquaintance of mine happens to be a beautiful woman and has a very nice husband but she thouroughly dislikes him and his ideals and principles, insults him in front of visitors or friends and behind his back as well. She thinks she deserved a better husband, he is unfit for her and is just good for nothing.
The latest and perhaps the most disgusting instance is of a wife who continually scolds her husband so much that he looks like a scared mouse all the time. She scolds him or speaks insultingly about him all the time and in front of everyone. Just a single frown on her face is enough to send him into a titzy and immidiately mend his mistake. Poor poor fellow...
There are numerous such examples.

It is disgusting how some women derive pleasure or satisfaction ( maybe neither because it is their normal behavior ? ) in making their counterpart miserable. No, I am not looking at just one part of the picture, nor am I an orthodox who thinks a wife is a slave of her husband. The examples which I have mentioned are the ones whose faimlies I am well aquainted with and I can say with perfect confidence that the wife's unreasonable attitude is the main culprit and yes, they are not the usual tit bits of a happy couple fighting.

I personally feel a woman must never marry a man whom she cannot respect. Respect in a conjugal relationship is about as important as love.

I Do Not Like Women...!

I have somehow never been able to get along well with women and girls in my acquaintance. I find their company tiresome and painfully boring. Women are so different from men and I, frankly speaking, do not like the stuff they are largely made of.

Very few women in this world are capable of talking ( or even responding ) intelligently; The rest all talk shallow and have dangerously limited topics to talk about apart from their all time hot favourite of  in-laws, children and cooking. Their company is shockingly scarce in intelligence, humor and wisdom. They crack silly jokes that actually make me want to weep and then after cracking it, it is typical of them to laugh and expect you to laugh as if it were the best joke of the world. They discuss film stars as a first hand critic and often handle domestic affairs as a biker would an aeroplane.
Why has God given them such a great stamina for talking..; is it to let men have some peace ?

In my school days I wasn't a studious kid who keeps studying 48 hours a day and scores 20 out of 10 in every freak exam but I loved reading and had so many interesting things to do that I had simply no time for time pass friendships. In any case I could not pass time happily with any one below my mental level. It stayed this way even when I started doing a job. I was a teacher and preffered spending my time with lovely innocent 4 year olds rather than with fellow teachers who merely gossiped about the dress they wore and the jewellaries they had. (Excuse me, I was never accused of being haughty or vain, only a bit quiet and hard working. I was polite enough to let them do what they pleased and continued doing what pleased me, OK?)
Now I am married and the situation is somewhat tricky; you see, S is a very warm hearted and friendly man. He has lots of friends from childhood, college and office. Naturally we keep meeting them frequently. According to popular custom in India all the ladies stay together in a different group while all the gents stay together in their seperate group; they even dine seperately. So while S enjoys his time with his friend, I have to ecstaticaly enjoy the company of the wife.
Some of them are truely an ordeal for me...!
Most of them want me to join the 'kitty party' or go on shopping expeditions together. (How I hate this word..! I have never done this rotten stuff and never will do so as long as I am alive. I have discovered often these are just clever strategies for women to show off their status and talk shit in the most innocent and humble manner.) One of them wanted me to show her my lingerie collection and to tell her in detail all that happened on my first night ( she is perfectly decent and straight) while another has only one topic on her mind to discuss with me and that is sex; if I didn't discuss( and now I don't discuss) she used to become rather offended.
Some of them are even secretly hostile to me due to a another variety of reasons but they act as if they are my bestest friend in front of S and as soon as his back is turned you could litrally see them spitting venom ( honeyed of course !)

Suffering company of unwanted women is not restricted to friend's wives alone; it extends further to neighbours also. About a year ago, I used to live in a multi storey building where 15 - 20 Indians lived and were very friendly towards each other. Look, I have full respect, yes, full respect for close cummunity feeling, friendly visits and friendliness but it sort of crossed the limit of comfort for me when I started getting pack of 4-6 girls peeling at my door bell, or ringing and pinging me to accompney them to a fair, shopping or park or cooking together. As it is, the mandatory weekly get - together of all the Indian wives in the building was a total horror to me.
I finally escaped them whem we left that country. Some of them are still living there and sometimes I get a wicked feeling to reveal to them what I secretly thought about their Get Togetheres but I have restrained myself well enough.

Ah well, to each his own !
I understand full well they all have as much right of behaving and acting or believing as they do as I have of mine - none is wrong - it is just the the point of view and personal inclination, likes and dislikes that make something  appear wrong or right.

Saree - The Worst Dress Ever...!!!

Saree, the oldest Indian costume and undoubtedly more beautiful and sexy than the most beautiful dress in the entire world, is hardly a dress worth any more appriciation than already been given. In fact, the more I think about it, the less I like it and so will you too.

I wonder if it is lack of dressing imagination of Indian tailors/designers or prejudiced mind of Indian males who prefer keeping their women folk hidden like the cave of Monte Cristo, that saree happens to be the only dress of Indian women . Thanks to the modernisation creeping into the society women have begun breaking the shackles of these six yards so that they can now be seen in some other dresses as well but even then it remains the major dress of the Indian sub-continent but for every possible occasion in life whether big or small,important or ordinary, happy or sad, saree is the only dress for them. They get married in saree, get pregnant in it, spend their pregnancy and even give birth in it. Some of them have even gone to war in them, remember Rani of Jhansi or Rani durgavati etc. etc? Rest every other occasion is but comparatively small.
Attending religious and cultural ceremonies, parties, social gatherings or any special occasion etc in saree makes a lot of sense but I don't think spending one's entire lifetime in it, going to sleep every night and waking up ( with the saree still intact on your body !!), going to the washroom for necessary daily rituals( how???), yes, you're right, in a saree, and accomplishing every domestic chore, is, if not impossible than is decidedly more inconveniencing and tiresome than you can possibly imagine.

First and the formost it is the most inconveniencing dress ever; it entails difficulties at every step and turn like obtaining matching falls, petticots and blouses, getting it piquot stitched, timetaking precision (and a fanless room) in wearing it correctly, securing it with pins if you can't do without them, keeping the pleats and the pallu in their asigned places while you walk, sit or stand or wash, starch, iron and fold it.
Furthermore, its disadvantages far greatly outweigh its advantages.
You cannot participate in any light sporting activity like biking, cycling, running, jumping etc. Those who do ride a twowheeler or a cycle wearing a saree look like aliens from Pluto. You can't bodily fight with anyone even in a jest - a single wrong move from your opponent can leave you more than redfaced !
About saree, it is said, it hides everything it should ( come on, we all know what you are talking about, ok? ) and reveals everything it should. Very true, until your pallu drops down suddenly ( and believe me, if you haven't pinned it down, it will drop more than 100 times in a minute) and your blouse is not a high neck like a nun's gown. Even if the blouse is moderately high necked it can still embarrass you.
You can't even sit on floor or squat or crawl - the six yards make sure you stay at limited places in limited postures.
Cooking in a saree is a great well known fire hazard and so is celebrating festivals like deepavali or any other festival where oil lamps are lit and you have to roam about dangerously near them.
It is neither winter and summer friendly nor rainy. I cannot imagine how women can tolerate it when atmospheric temperatures sore to 42 degrees. In winters no woolen apparal except the shawl and overcoat goes well with the dress; woolen scarves, caps, hats, mufflers, jackets, coats, pullovers, skivies, cardigans, sweaters, gloves even socks look incongruous if worn on a saree. That's why you will rarely see a lady in saree and woolens as well on special occasions or ceremonies no matter if its freezing outside. In rainy season, it is easier to get soaked completely even in short mild showers and then, believe me, every wet woman is not sexy.

If you can still attribute all these mishappenings to sheer chance and misfortune instead of blaming the lovely costume, it still remains to be reminded that women use their saree as a multi purpose cloth which not just covers their whole body and make them look beautiful but is terribly handy at all times as a hanky, duster and a kitchen/toilet/facial tissue paper. Most of them ( when not being watched by somebody ) happily wipe off or blow their nose, sneeze or caugh into it,clean their eyes, wipe their sweat or grime, brush clean with their pallu a dirty or dusty seat before sitting on it, while doing kitchen work will dry plates and spoons with it, or use it to hold a hot utensil, while in washroom or at the wash basin they dry their hands with it, touch up their make up, wipe off or adjust their lipstick/ liner, powder etc or brush away food crumbs from their lips and fingers after having a sumptuous meal. When they feel hot they even use it to fan themselves. They even use the same for their babies and kids too.
Some other more notorious uses are using it as a bath towel or a bathrobe, making it into a rope to hang from the dreaded ceiling fan, strangling a neck or climbing down 4 stories with its help to escape or elope.

I still haven't been able to figure out how women in saree manage the loo or the washroom. In India usually the washroom floors are all wet and dirty; putting two and two together, does it take much effort to imagine what must happen if just at the right time you forget or fail to gather up your saree properly? Wow ! How many a times men must have cuddled romantically in a beautiful pallu which had just brushed past a toilet seat or a dirty wet washroom floor !!!! That reminds me, I also wonder how men make love to their woman if she is in a saree.... I mean do they really take it off or just lift it up? And what happens if a man tries to take off a saree that is thoroughly pinned at 5-6 junctures? Well, of course, either the saree will tear or the man's hands will. Ha ha ha ha ha ha

Speaking thus must make you all think I am against the saree. No , not at all. I find it the most beautiful and sexiest dress in the world and would willingly wear if the occasion demands it but definitly I regard it a great "no no" on every other routine days when you need to be quick, rushy, comfortable and capable of doing everything inside the house as well as outside. The saree is rather like the peacock feathers - extremely beautiful but without much purpose or utility.

Mothering In India

Mothering ways in India

Mothers all over the world are same but mothering ways are not. I realised this truth when I gave birth to H. I had married into a really warm and close family where each member was full of respect love and care for one another. Yet when H, the first grand child was born, this love, respet and care started diminishing rapidly; and the simple reason for this was my different mothering style. There is a horrifying lack of knowledge in India in many common spheres and pregnancy and child care is just one of them. Despite being educated and sufficiantly advanced, people rigidly resist advanced approach in this particular field and continue to be blindly led by centuries old tales and techniques. Practically, no thought is given to child's safety and comfort and carrying the baby in your arms every minute of the day, and thrusting nipples in his mouth at the first sign of cry from him is considered the highest epitome of motherhood.
I had read from experts in this field and wanted to raise my baby the pediatrician recommended method which gives specific guidelines (and reasons) on everything that should and should not be done with the baby right from diapering to feeding and even handling or behaving with the baby.
I gave birth to H in Netherlands via a C-section. We were alone at the hospital with no family member near us. Now, when I come to think of it, I feel it was a blessing in disguise because if our relatives had been there at that time, I would never have got the chance to raise H in my way. We left Netherlands for India when H was just 2 months old but luckily by then his many basic habits had been established.
Well, when I reached home, a totally different world awaited both of us.

They all, even the neighbours, were shocked to notice that H was kept in diapers, slept seperately in his own bed, needed no efforts to fall asllep because as soon as he was laid in his crib, he would fall asllep on his own, was formula fed and fed on precise clock schedule, given a pacifier, was bathed in a tub half immersed in water, and wasn't carried all the time in arms. All these sound perfectly normal and down - to - earth commonplace in every part of the world but not in India where all this is tantamount to abnormal, weird or downright stupid..! Here a baby is only cloth diapered made out of old sarees and bedsheets, or kept naked below, sleeps essentially with his parents ( till he is 12-15 yrs or even more), given a honey filled pacifier or encouraged to suck his thumb, given thick kajal in his eyes and a huge kajal spot on his forehead or cheeks to ward off evil sights (and make an evil sight of the poor baby himself consequently), his whole body is thickly smared with oil and generally obnoxious smelling mustard oil at that !- no sweet smelling stuff ), in cases of inability to breastfeed he drinks unpastuarised cow's milk, fed whenever he cries, constantly carried in arms, get his ears pierced within 1-2 weeks and wears heavy gold/silver or pearls jewellary like bracelets, earrings, necklaces and anklet rings. Furthermore, according to tradition, no new clothes are bought for him and he is kept in old almost beggarly looking rags which are neither even clothes to begin with nor of his size; and when the poor fellow does get some clothes after a few weeks they are usually the unworldly frocks and the knicker shirts type stuff which the family's children had worn one or two generations ago. In short, nothing is bought for him,no bed, no bed clothes, no dresses, no baby bath tub, no baby's personal care items like cream, shampoo, oil, hair brush, baby towel, etc.

Initially, they attributed my new methods to my being a new and so an entirely ignorant mother. The whole army of family, friends, relatives, visitors and even the servants regarded me with friendly sympathy and started telling me what to do to help me out of my so called weird ignorant mothering ways. They advised me that I shouldn't keep him in diapers all the time as it will stop his penise growth and make him impotent, distort his gait by making his legs abnormally seperate from one another and remaining that way all his life, delay his sitting and walking developments. They insisted that the pacifier was bad for him because it was empty. I should fill it with honey because then he will enjoy it and get something to eat too; instead he should be encouraged to suck his thumb.They all thought I starved H and dindn't feed him whenever according to them he was hungry, didn't breastfeed him to preserve my figure, diapered him for my convenience and bathed him ignorantly. Why don't I just wipe his body with moist cloth ? What is the need to put him in the tub and submerge him? I shouldn't bathe him for so long ( 7-10 mins) his body will become stiff and will ache.They insisted that I should sugar down his formula ( drinking milk without sugar and that too at room temperature was unimaginable for them !)

My parents in law religeously used to thrust Tuesday laddoo in his mouth when poor H was just 2 months old. This is really nothing as my mom in law, purely out of affection and love,fed H with tea drops ( the one with sugarfree as she is diabetic) regularly every morning and evening and despite being requested not to do so, she continued doing it and telling us blandly that she hadn't.
They all would keep playing with him even when he was tired and wanted to sleep; and would keep rocking him in arms even when he had been asleep for more than an hour or so.
I recieved some baby jewellary items and a lot of coaxing to make him wear them but H continued to remain without any jewellary, kajal, heavily oiled hair and body and those particular type of Indian baby dresses which involves gaudy colours, violent patterns and agressive designs and definitely some of them are far from being even safe as they have lose tiny buttons, beads, hard sequins, rough lace, big buckles etc etc. I always dressed him in pastal blues and decent Ts and knickers or dungrees or onsies. This style was looked down upon as stupid and dull.
They insisted that I should daily put oil in his head because his head must be aching lying down all the time; I should massage his feet to relieve the pain in his legs, ( because he keeps kicking his legs in air in his lying down position), I should give him whole body massage with mustard oil at least 5 times a day ( to help grow his bones and muscles otherwise he will not grow), put oil in his ears otherwise he will become deaf, rub honey on his gums otherwise he will get painful teething, never show him a mirror- his teeth will come out crooked and he will become frightened too to see his image , and regularly put oil in his penis - if I don't - his penis will not grow and he will become impotent. As H was very little at that time his feet still used to be in bent position like all little babies have and a neighbour actually suggested me to regularly tie both his little legs tightly together with a long piece of cloth to straighten them ! They constantly coaxed him to speak something and when he did't they said his tounge was too big that's why he could'nt speak. H was a happy, contented little baby and never cried except just occasionaly, but then too, whenever he would cry, or show signs of displeasure, they would say he was hungry and if I triumphantly told them he had had his milk just 20 minutes ago then they would come up with something like "OH, his head has not been oiled, it must be aching, that's why he is crying, or he had a long bath in the afternoon, his body has become stiff and achy because of the bath that's why he is crying.....!!!"
Wow, I really don't know which of these tales should bag the first position for being the craziest.

Why is there such a big difference in child raring in India as compared to the rest of the world?Does raising your baby the educated, civilised way mean you love him less? or bring up your baby the uneducated, rustic way mean you love your baby more? Just because someone has had 5-6 babies does not mean she knows best on this subject.
Now H is one and half years old and amongst all the children he mixes up with, he is the most mannered and well behaved boy and having just the right and desired regular habits, while the other kids, younger or older than him happily lick away ice creams, toffees and chocolates, don't drink milk, have no particular lunch/ dinner time, don't nap and go to sleep any time they want , share their parent's bed, wear clothes that are often unflattering and uncomfortable and sport heavy jewellaries.

The only place where H has given me trouble is his eating. He never liked to drink and when I started him on solids he clearly told us that he didn't like eating either. He pukes at the very mention of food or by merely looking at his spoon or bib. I had to force him to eat to keep him healthy. Often he would vomit 3-4 times a day while eating. We consulted several renowned pediatricians but everything was found to be completely normal with him and the only reason was his desire. He doesn't like to eat. Inevitably here too, I faced stiff opposition and interfearnce with my relatives. His especially cooked and pureed porriges and khichdis ( rice lentil veggie soup) and pureed fruits and vegetables in milk etc were frowned upon. They said, I plainly didn't know how and what and how much to feed him. I fed him too much; babies don't eat that much- just a spoon of dal or a pinch of rice is sufficient for a single meal time. And why the hell do I insist on a meal time? why can't I let him eat whenever he wants? They preferred dipping their bare finger in all the adult spicy food on table and encouraging him to lick it. However, even that trick didn't work.
Really, here, there is no concept of regular and proper baby food either.
There's a friend of mine who used to give raw almond paste to her newborn preemie to make the baby's skin and hair turn good. Another preemie is largely being fed icecream although poor baby is just 5 months old.)

I never put oil in his ears or penis. I got him checked out with a ped who clearly told me what I already knew by my research work that his penis is completely ok. Of course, for his hearing,, he had already been checked out in Amsterdam when he was only a week old. I never gave him honey untill he was out of his first year. I never sugared his milk or meals and always fed him on schedule. He always sleeps independantly in his own bed and has fixed time for taking his naps. So when we are out on a long trip or journeying we know exactly when to give him milk or his lunch or food and he knows when he has to sleep. He had always loved his bath time but never more so than now as he has now a big adult bath tub in which he loves sitting ( held by me, of course ) immersed in water till his shoulders and keeps splashing and playing with bath toys. He loves watching himself in the mirror. He has no habit of snatching food or crying for toffees and lollipops. He still dresses in pastal blues and believe me, he is the most beautiful boy we all have seen. Even the Germans here feel amazed at his European looks.

I do feel deeply sad that my insistance for following my own ways or rather I should say the right ways to mother my baby has created a rift between me and the family but I have the satisfaction that I am giving my baby the best that I am capable of. They still believe that I know nothing about raising a baby whereas they know all. They still feel enraged and offended that I didn't obey their advices. The most common thing that they have to say is afterall they too gave birth to 5-6 children and nothing happened to them, but they forget that maybe they were fortunate that nothing happened to their children but everyone cannot be as lucky and doubtless because of this reason India has so low infant and child mortality rate as compared to other parts of the world.And yes, I never feel like forgiving those parents, especially those mothers who despite being educated and well broughtup and exposed, continue to bring up their children the dreaded way.

Child raising is clearly horrible in India.
Whatever I have mentioned is just the tip of an ice berg; there are much more horrible practises taking places regarding this subject. Of course India is a yet developing nation and not so very wealthy at that with a bursting population and compartively low litracy level but the problem is all these these things are practiced by literate urban people too, in fact even those who have been to or a living in abroad.
Even Indian peadiatricians advise ignorant mothers to do dangerous or unhealthy things. They allow newborns to feed on honey and unpasturaised cow/ buffalo milk till their mothers start lactating and prescribe adult medicines to infants; they don't even carefully examine the baby and instead of advising on healthy eating they prescribe lots of multi vitamines, health tonics, appetite boosters, digestive syrups etc. to infants. A little baby (6-7 months) was suffering from fever so they told them to feed her lots of ice creams to keep her cool; H wasn't drinking milk and they told me I could give him adult tea, he might like it. I am a first hand witness of all this and feel totally disgusted.

I want to add here that I am not opposed to attachment parenting, breast feeding, co sleeping and self feeding; but isn't there a difference between the sensible and the senseless ?

Pregnancy is a beautiful thing...!!!

Pregnancy can be a tough time; I am extremely lucky to say, that on the contrary, it was a very enjoyable and a memorable time for me, so much so, that it is impossible for me to describe it.

We were in Belgium when I became pregnant. Far away from family and friends, there was nobody to help us out, yet we pulled it off pretty fine.
SS was just fantastic. He supported me on every step and turn and in everything I wished.Without his valuable support and cooperation I don't think I could have had such a nice time; but even greater than his help and support was the complete faith which he had in me; he trusted me completely and fully, allowing me to do whatever I wanted, never questioning me or even doubting me that I might be wrong.
In the first trimester, when pregnancy hormones made me too weak, sleepy, lethargic, breadthless and unable to stand smells of any kind, he promptly took charge of the kitchen despite knowing nothing about cooking. He handled office and kitchen simultaneously making up hilarious parodies on the spot to fit any situation we were in. I fell in love with him deeper than ever before.
He took such good care of me; preparing fresh fruit juice for me straight after returning from office, washing the utensils and cleaning up the kitchen till it would be almost midnight, stocking up on food, milk and grocery every 3-4 day though normally he hates this kind of shopping, serving me milk and breakfast by my bedside, tenderly helping me every time I sat down, stood up, or settled down in bed and even put on my socks and shoes when I became too big to bend down.
Buying bunches of romantically beautiful roses and tulips every weekend, going to Amsterdam Central to eat falafal which we loved, taking a walk round the block or in the glitzy shopping mall or beside the picturesque canal in the chilly afternoons and evenings, enjoying beer and dinner in seductive candle light, listening to surinami FM radio while going to sleep .... are just some of the sweetest memories of those times when we two were so close together fully engrossed with the thoughts of the little baby we were going to have.
I spent my entire time in reading, studying, internet surfing and often strolling in the mall below till it was time for SS to come home from office. I collected a wide data on my present state and learnt all the medically recommended genuine do's and don'ts of pregnancy. It was
so wonderful to find out what was happening with me inside and out and the reason why it was happening; even more wonderful was to discover the nature's amazing sequence step by step in which the baby was forming inside.
Throughout the nine months, I continued wearing pretty Ts, jeans, tracks and sports shoes flaunting my bump as few women can dream of doing if in India because here it is considered extremely vulgar and shameless. After the first trimester was over, I had become my usual
healthy and energetic self and could accomplish all the house chores without much difficulty.
Finally HN arrived into this world blinking in surprise at so many lights, sounds and people around him so utterly different from the dark,quiet and solitary world he had come from. Now he is nine months old and we have never ceased to wonder at nature's miracles which directs and guides such a tiny creature making him master skills like rolling, standing crawling or speaking instinctively. It is truly nature's supreme miracle and should be enjoyed and marveled at instead of passing it by silently without getting to know it just as a spider passes by a chest of treasure.
I know it is easier for me to say so because I had SS who is the best husband in the world and because I happened to be at a place where generally, people consider it as the luckiest, happiest, nicest and most beautiful thing in the world; they regard it as an honor to bring a new life into this world and both father and mother equally participate in this process right from attending Ultra sound sessions and pregnancy classes together to witnessing the birth of the baby and feeding, diapering or bathing him.

Pregnancy is so differently handled here in India...!
Leaving aside the majority which lives in rural areas and is illiterate, the urban population which is both educated and well-to-do is barely better than rustics in this regard.
The father considers his main job is to impregnate his woman; he then assigns her to the care of relatives and forgets all about it carrying on with his work as usual; often the woman is sent to her parent's place to spend the entire term.Those who do keep near their wives at this time,
bear all the discomforts and changes in her with a bored indifference. Pregnancy and everything that this word entails, holds nothing unusual for them; after all, women have been getting pregnant ever since they were created so what's the big deal in it? They are only interested in the finished product.
The woman on the other hand is reduced to spend the most beautiful time of her life in complete ignorance. She is subjected to wearing drab oversized clothes to hide her bump, listening to and practicing centuries old anecdotes of older ladies in her family and friends' circle, confined to stay indoors as much as possible and the highlight of her state is only in indulging in mega eating and resting, that is, if she is lucky enough to have a good family otherwise often the story goes that she has to toil hard even in this state because nobody not even her husband has the least sympathy with her.

There is such a colossus ignorance in people here regarding such a wonderful and vital thing which is pathetic. The more so because despite a lot of advancement, education, medical facilities and available littreture on the topic, people not only lack authentic knowledge on this
subject but display a total absence of curiosity to know and a desire to learn and so prefer to be happily guided by age old ridiculous old wives tales and techniques. The gynecologists behave like a mothers-in-law and mothers-in-laws like gynecs.
(Well, leave about pregnancy, most do not know even simple human anatomy. A lady in my relations, unfortunately,died after suddenly experiencing pain in her chest region; she was 8 or 9 months pregnant. Till date, the family believes she died because the baby inside had climbed up towards her heart which caused it to stop. Similarly, many people ( here in India), believe that a pregnant lady should eat a lot of butter specially in the 9th month as it will make the baby slide out of the birth canal smoothly.)

Pregnancy is a wonderful state. Its each and every week is full of marvelous wonders. Its a miracle how just a cluster of cells multiply and become a miniature human being. Its a unique experience to feel a living creature moving, kicking, hiccuping and somersaulting inside your body. Despite the numerous discomforts of the state, there is an undeniable joy and thrill in it which can never or rarely if ever be compared to anything else; what's more, these joys and thrills and wonders are not just for the mother alone- they are also for the father to be. Its such a shame that so many people here treat pregnancy as an ordinary trivial affair and pass it by without enjoying or admiring it. Like animals, they just enter this state and come out of it.
Ignorance is something always to be pitied but nowhere more so than here...!

I Love CMS..!!

People generally regard teaching as a low paying, non status, unimportant, easily aquired, niggardly, lustre lack job. Given the choice, nobody would choose it while those who are already in it are usually because of some constraint. Ask them why they are here you will get
pretty reasons, none stating they are here because they specifically chose it. Ask them if they like the job. "Nope." is the prompt answer. Such is the mindset of most people here.

I was a class xi student when I started teaching; I had the same mindset described above and the purpose to do so was to earn pocket money and become independent. Within a month, I discovered I was cut out for this job.I joined a small primary school. Despite extreme work pressure, dirty politics, unfair administration, popular work escape culture, unavailabel resources, air tight mismanagement and a bird-cage like work atmosphere I was thoroughly enjoying my work much to the amazement and dismay of all others.
And then I joined CMS - the most unusual school in the world.

CMS is a Guinness Book of World Record holder for having maximum number of students in a single city ; it has 22 branches and a whopping 30,000 students.
Well, this was all I knew when I joined it as a Pre primary teacher; and before the first week was out I had fallen head over heels in love with it.
The school premises was so beautiful and spotlessly clean all around inside as well as out. The red carpetted marble Pre Primary gallery flanked on both sides with huge children's activity boards, the increadibly lively and colorful classrooms, huge green playground bordered on all sides with flags of all countries fluttering gracefully, the luxuriently lit beautiful auditorium... everything about this school was a picture of perfection.
The classroom and the prayer assembly became especially close to my heart. All classrooms were prettily and faultlessly furnished according to nursery style, having all montessori apparatus, developmental toys, personal care articles and plenty of picture story books. We had plastic mats which children knew how to spread on floor and settle down to play, a tiny wiper and dustpan and brush which they loved to use to learn cleaning up themselves, a tray with a jug and glass to learn serving, pouring and handling activities, a mirror and a comb to tidy themselves, huge display boards having lots of themed educational picture charts and the birthday section where children's names were put with their birth dates.

I loved my class. It was the most endearing place for me. Being with children was like being with God. It drove all personal thoughts and emotions out of my mind. I enjoyed the pure and innocent company of children where even the shadow of any evil is out of question. My class
was my whole world and the school became my second home. I actually used to feel sorry when it was time for me to go home.
The prayer Assembly used to be the highlight of my day. It used to be a half hour long affair where under the supervision and guidence of music and dance teacher, the children learnt to sing nursery rhymes, prayer songs, dance, deliver school pledge, exercise etc accompnied with
beautiful music. I could almost feel myself getting connected with God at the time those prayer songs were sung.The feeling was so overwhelming that tears would start in my eyes and goose bumps rose. For me, even today, Rupali the dance/music teacher and Sanjeev the music teacher who played the casio, are the best singers/musicians in the world.
Although many would consider it an overstatement, for me its plain, stark, naked truth. I have visited many prominent religious places in India like varanasi, Mathura, Gokul, Ayodhya, Tirupati, Meenakshi etc but I have never come across that utter peace, serenity, spirituality,
divinity and above all presence of God which seemed to overflow in those prayer assemblies.

I was divinely happy and incredibly contented there.This school offered me a huge platform to exercise all the talents I possessed. By nature I am an artistic and a creative person. I loved to decorate my class, paint, sketch, organise and conduct cultural activities, elocution, dramatics etc. etc. Many felt convinced I was trying to impress authorities; they had no idea I was merely pleasing myself and the creative urge within me.
It was funny to see how I was mostly regarded with admiration, a bit of envy and even threat. But nobody, simply nobody quite understood my love for school or my love for teaching.
I run into people from all walks of life and from all age groups and almost all of them regard it boringly funny of me. They can't imagine how can anyone love teaching of all things..!
Till date I have not met with anyone whose passion for teaching or work matches mine.

Almost four years have passed now. I have got married and have a baby less than a year old. I live in a different city. I am now a full time stay at home mom. I remain busy 24x7; yet, I have been unable to forget my incredible, incomparable CMS in any possible way. It continues to haunt me in memories and dreams and it appears will always do so. Sometimes when I am alone with my baby I find myself singing those nostalgic nursery rhymes and songs to him which I used to sing in those prayer assemblies.
I mean to start working as soon as my baby is a bit older but Alas ! I can never hope to get another school like CMS again.

I love CMS.

Things I absolutely love and absolutely hate.

Big happiness often lies in small things....

Some things I absolutely love

My camera

My laptop

High heel black shoes/ long black boots

sports shoes

tight jeans

short tight black skirts and minis

black overcoats

motor biking ( those super sexy scooters for ladies...! )

biking,riding,walking or travelling in light drizzle

cycling by riverside or country lanes

cuddling round in my fur blanket

frothy coffee in a large mug

coca cola

lying curled up in blanket on a comfy sofa

running up the stairs

playing silly pranks on unsuspecting people

bhelpuri

cottage cheese

lychee ice cream

soups and pickles

my favourite books

classic poetries(like Shakespeare, Wordsworth)

short stories by premchand

watching Sherlock Holmes( my first love...!)

Opening music of Sherlock Holmes TV serial

dark clouds or heavily clouded sky

pelting rain or light drizzling

thunder sound and lightening

moon playing hide and seek with clouds

starlit sky with no moon

natural scenery especially mountain scenery and rivers

autumn leaves

winter snow

dense fog

music rhythm / beats in a song

animal babies especially kittens and pups

candles especially colored ones or burning through coloured glass)

busy shopping centers

tastefully decorated houses.

modern furniture

mirrors

decorative plants

beautiful and heavy curtains, net curtains

decorative lights

candlelight dinners

getting gifts

beautiful crockery

carpets / carpeted floors

glitzy shopping malls

quick witty sense of humor

humorous people

today's hinglish type of speaking using raw phrases and terms ( hardly sophisticated but very endearing)

wise quotes

researching a new topic which is interesting to me

History especially British and French history

Geography

Things I absolutely hate:-   

bright sunlight
messy, disorderly rooms.
AC
mopeds
films on underworld
circus or people performing tricks
magicians
direct sunlight in rooms
heavy jewellery (or too many jewellery items on a person) in fact any jewellery other then rings,bracelets and earrings
heavily adorned brides
heavily attired grooms with some stupid looking head dress and riding on horseback.
too much wind (that blows away yr clothes and hair and make u feel cold despite sweaters)
shabby dirty cars or bikes
improper pronounciation
gossiping women
badly dressed babies and children
homes decorated in bad taste
parties of all kinds but most especially B'day and kitty parties
people who tell u to take off yr shoes outside before entering their house.
badly served dishes
badly worn sari
eating with fingers
my current lanlord
doctors who delight in prescribing unnecessary medicine
government officials who dont work
all politicians,their speeches,their very appearance on tv or newspaper ( in short,everything related to them)
watching TV
TV serials, most reality shows
many news channels and their news readers( they caw harshly and appear like vultures tearing flesh to me)
bad photo shooting( photo composition)
weird superstitions/opinions and advices
disorganised kitchens and homes
ostentasious weddings, b'day parties, anniversaries
b'day parties for babies and children
adult style of fashion for kids eg low neck sexy sort of dress for a 4 year old girl
jewellary and makeup on babies and children
barbie dolls
parents who allow their baby/child to remain naked in front of guests
parents who over pamper their children
women who constantly talk about their husbands, children, recipes and TV serials
snobbish people
people with low intelligence or no humor
people who show off their money, status, knowledge or attitude.
visiting temples due to the dirtiness, noise, crowd and clearly bad behaviour of devotees/management staff(in tirupati staff pandits were taking bribe; loads of cowdung, flies and ciggerettes in chamunda devi mandir etc etc)
loud sounding crackers
throwing colours on holi

My Landlord is so sickening...!!!

Really, my landlord is getting too much on my nerves. He is such a miser....!

Although an affluent man, drawing more than 60 thousand per month as rent, several thousands as his monthly pension and his son and daughter- in- law in US drawing hefty salaries, I wonder why he still lives like a poor man who counts his every penny.
His huge 3 story house in a posh area in Pune is no better than a village house. His kitchens are horribly made. Whatever articles get broken or out of use, he uses them to furnish his rental apartments and then charges huge amounts of money as rent from them; and when they further break down on use, he tells the tenants it is their duty to get them repaired. Broken pressure cooker that doesn't whistle at all, knives that have forgotten they were ever made to cut, spoons which have become sharpened from regular scrubbing , they actually cut your mouth when you put them in, cracked ceramic cups, mixers with loose lids, pans with handles missing, you name it and its there. He has arranged for one kitchen amongst 3 separate apartments. This kitchen has a 3 burner gas stove whose one burner does not function properly. There are limited utensils and of course all partially working ones. There is only one tiny open kitchen shelf where the three tenants have to keep their monthly provisions, even things like milk, eggs, butter etc which often serve as delicious dinner for stray cats in the night. So, can you can even imagine the sight and condition of it where 3 people have to cook food together or one after the other with such limited or bad resources? To top it all, he has provided no aquaguard for pure drinking water, no refrigerator, no washing machine and no electric iron so that he can save electricity and money on buying these appliances. In our 2 room apartment there are only two power plug sockets and they are so lose that keeping the plug stay in is a big problem.. Now how am I supposed to charge 2 mobiles and a laptop plus keep the internet cable plugged in all the time?
The sofa set in the hall present the ideal specimen of his miserliness. He has kept a thick ply board on their seats and has kept another thin sofa seat on top of the ply to prevent the actual sofa from spoiling ...as if he wants them intact for his next life as well !
I had been thinking this was the height when something else happened to set new standards to his stinginess.
I have mentioned earlier that his son lives and works in US. He has a small child of just one and half years. They were on a visit to India for 15 days after a long gap of more than 3 years. One might think his heart would have been overflowing with love to see his son and grandson after such a long time but it was far from that. He continuously quarreled with them for petty things like running the geyser for more than 10 minutes, became too angry with them and stopped speaking to them even to the little adorable grandson and then finally started demanding money outright for all the expenses he was running into due to their stay in his house. I heard, he even refused to provide his jeep to them which they needed to visit the wife's parents in the same city so they had to go by an auto. They got so fed up in the end that declaring they would never again visit him, left for US, 3 days before their scheduled departure.
I have heard, his daughter who stays in the same city often comes here to stay when her husband goes away on tours; he makes her too pay for her stay in his house.

Up till now, I had merely been regarding this man as extremely irritating but the episode of his son has produced a strange mixture of pity and hatred in my heart for him. He must be sick in his mind to treat his children in such a hideous manner. What does he think he is gaining by saving so much and estranging his own son and his dear family? Is it just his miserliness or something greater than that?

I wish fervently that may his house get burgled one night and all his hoarded money get stolen; I know, he has told me that a year ago someone hacked his son's account here in India and withdrew 5 lakhs. I am really overjoyed...! He truly deserves this.

There are people who just don't know how to live properly. Money is not the question. It is possible to live comfortably even if you do not have a lot of money and same way it is possible to live uncomfortably even if you have a lot of money. My landlord precisely falls in the latter category. I am actually feeling sorry for him; poor fellow ! he thinks himself wise by having saved so much money and spending it so judiciously but he doesn't know that he is in fact a very poor man - far poorer than a laborer or a rickshaw puller who strives in sweat and blood to keep their family members happy and smiling.
This man is sick...!