The Realization That Your Children Are Growing Up :(

How it sneaks up on you...

 

Scenario 1:

 

Once upon a time, the Singapore Singaaran LOVED cuddle time. He would leap into bed as we winced for the impact, and burrow into the sheets between us. Imagine trying to get your bearings quivering, groggy, bleary-eyed, and sloth-like while this <40 lb. ball of energy hurls itself at you...You experience enough and more 'ouch!' moments and are happy to nudge him towards the dear husband who is equally groggy, and possibly snoozing away. No harm in waking him up to do his fatherly duties, right?

 

Now my soon-to-be 8 year old is conscious that - regardless of my performances in their burping (and other, grosser) contests - I am not 'one of the boys'...He is reluctant to let me cuddle him. Now, you WANT the hugs and the cuddle time and to bury your nose in his baby smell...but they look so uncomfortable...that you don't want to demand a hug. It defeats the purpose. You turn away, guilty to have asked for one, and then comes the permission, "OK! OK! you can give me a hug." (sounding tired and doling one out to his needy old Mum)

 

Hopefully, this will not be the reaction 30 years from now. And certainly not on their wedding days! There will be no guilt in demanding hugs, on my part for sure.

 

Scenario 2:

 

Once upon a time, my sons believed that I was a bigger version of them - an overgrown toddler with chubby legs and a round tummy...but with better abilities and sharper skills of course - goes without saying haha (eyes rolled upwards)!. Taking advantage of this wonderful illusion, I could run to and from the bathroom and the closet in various states of undress. My sons didn't bat an eye. It was just the big baby running around.

 

These days, my older son's reaction is to cover his brother's eyes and yell in combat mode, "DON'T LOOK!", while the younger one stares, mouth agape, as if watching an accident in slow-motion. He can't look away...(agreed, my thighs looks like a train wreck right now, but that's not what pains me). In that vague region called your heart, you realize that that these guys - your own flesh and blood literally - are becoming their own little people. The sense of pride running strong with your dismay just bends you over like a punch in the gut while you try standing straight, brave and strong. 

Sometimes, even good things make moms cry.

Moments of Choice - The Pregnant Deer

During my childhood, my Dadima (paternal grandmother) would sing me an old Hindi song from 'Boot Polish' (1954) - "Nanhe munhe bachche, tere mutthi mein kya hai?" (Rougly translated as - "Dear innocent child, what is in your closed fist?")

 

And the answer would be - "Mutthi mein hai takhdeer hamaari!" ("In my fist lies my destiny!"). Well, 'Boot Polish' was made shortly after India's independence from British rule (1947), and is typically full of patriotic fervor. I think we needed to prove to ourselves that we could lead our nation into success against all odds. We didn't lack natural resources but we were denied the tools to harness and build industry with, thanks to our very conservative economic policies. Caste and communal differences were momentarily forgotten in our moment of realization that we could reach for the stars through hard work alone. Well, it was a fervent idealism that ebbed during the 1960s and 70s...till India opened her markets in the late 1990s.

But to come back to our choices and our futures...these words came to mind when I read a story that my sister recently emailed me in her effort to help me view a certain situation calmly. The story is called 'The Pregnant Deer' and it is an illustration of Stochastic Probability theory. Here it is:

 

In a remote forest, a pregnant deer is about to give birth. She finds a remote grass field beside a river and slowly goes there thinking it would be safe. As she moves, she goes into labor….At the same moment, dark clouds gather around that area and lightning sparks a forest fire. Turning left, she sees a hunter who is aiming an arrow from a distance. As she tries to move to her right, she spots a hungry lion approaching her.
 

What can the pregnant deer do ….as she is already suffering labor pain ?
…

What do you think will happen ?
Will the deer survive ?
Will she give birth ?
Will the fawn survive ?
Will everything be burnt by the forest fire ?
…

That particular moment ?
…

Can the deer go left ? – The hunter’s arrow is aimed at her.
Can she go right ? – A hungry lion approaches.
Can she move up ? – A forest fire threatens.
Can she move down ?  – The fierce river offers sure death.

Answer:  She does nothing. She just focuses on giving birth to a new LIFE.

The sequence of events that happens at that fraction of  a second (moment) are as follows:

In a spur of MOMENT  …a bolt of lightning  strikes and blinds the eyes of the hunter. At that MOMENT, he releases the arrow that misses the deer, and eventually hits and injures the lion badly. At that MOMENT, it starts to rain heavily and the forest fire is extinguished. The next MOMENT, the deer gives birth to a healthy fawn.

Similarly, in our lives, we have the power over our MOMENT of CHOICE.

 

According to stochastic probability theory, we may know the situation or variables that exist here and now, but there is no way of determining a fixed future because each variable is itself governed not only by its own choices but by factors out of its control (random probability distributions). Brilliant!

 

This theory attracted great interest during the late 19th century, in order to track and predict the stock market. I think the realization was that one can neither control everything, nor be in total control of the future, nor of other people. The failure of the socialist state is a prime example of this. Also, elaborate plans to deceive, commit fraud, etc., whether at home or in the office have only a certain life span after which they unravel simply because the variables involved increase to such an extent that they cannot all be tracked or manipulated, and the introduction of new variables upsets the distribution of power.

 

Here's what we can control - our feelings, actions/ reactions.

We all have to deal with negative thoughts originating from all directions. Some thoughts are so powerful they overpower us and paralyze us. Let us not decide anything in a hurry. Let us think positive and imagine ourselves as the pregnant deer with the ultimate happy ending.

Anything can happen in a MOMENT in this life. Whether you are religious, superstitious, atheist, agnostic…or whatever else…you can attribute this MOMENT as sublime, divine intervention, faith, sudden luck, chance (serendipity), coincidence… or a simple ‘I don't know’ event. We all feel the same. Whatever one may call it, the priority of the deer in that given moment was to give birth to her little one…. because LIFE IS PRECIOUS.  You and your loved ones are precious and the Higher Power up there who created us knows what is best.

Moral of the story: Keep alive your faith and hope within you always.

Here is a link to the song :): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUrIJxCcXnA

Invest in Yourself!

 

Mark Twain cautioned, "Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great."

 

How true. Let me add that small people also constantly find fault with, pick on, and criticize the talents, ideas, way of life, etc., of others. Very good advice from Mark Twain, especially when applied with regard to one's in-laws (and husband even, sometimes), not to mention extended family, 'well-meaning friends' from your religious/cultural community, and so on...

Heaney

Just read that Seamus Heaney has walked on today - August 30 2013. 

'Digging' was the first poem of his that I read as a student of English Literature, in India...I like the first 2 lines :) - neither for their reference to a contained power, nor for their sexual suggestion, but more for Heaney's grudging and sweet admission of his distance from the 'earth-bound', macho, physically demanding labor of his father, grandfather (and their ancestors as well, probably), while he sits in a room above, his hands unsullied by dirt, with sheets of paper and a pen for a toolkit.

Many years later, Heaney went on to receive the Nobel prize, thus proving he was no less skilled...He also didn't hesitate to get his hands dirty, speaking up about global politics during the 1990s and 2000s...

 

 

DIGGING

Between my finger and my thumb   

The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound   

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:   
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds   

Bends low, comes up twenty years away   
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills   
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft   

Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.   

Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day

Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap

Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.

- Seamus Heaney, 1966 (from 'Death of a Naturalist')

Keeping Calm and Carrying On!

While applying for jobs these days, I simply click on the 'Apply' button and submit my resume. I have stopped bothering to add a cover letter, unless it's for a teaching post...in which case I also submit my teaching Resume, Statement of Teaching Philosophy, Evaluation of Teaching stats, Syllabi (taught so far), copies of my transcripts, and full recommendation letters. I'm hoping I'll get a lecturing break, but it appears there are always more qualified candidates (with PhDs and with more industry experience! I hate them all).

 

Surprisingly and ironically, I have had more responses for interviews from companies to which I submitted my resume only...contrary to the advice one hears that job applications must be accompanied by cover letters "or they will be thrown into the reject pile!". Guess what, they do call if and when they need you.

If they don't, then I just do a jig to the tune of James Brown's 'I Feel Good':
"I feel good (I knew that I would)
 I feeeel good (I knew that I would)
 So good!
 So good!
 I dumped you!"

 

I think the cover letter stipulation applies only for mid/senior positions, and when you know the party interviewing you. In that case, the interview itself might be a sham, but you want to do it right anyway. Like a formal marriage reception when the union has already been blessed at the registrar's or elsewhere (I don't mean in bed).

 

My husband is amused by my cover letters. As I've pointed out, it wouldn't matter if they were just one-liners in his case - they would just be one step in the formality.

 

How do I deal with the depressing job search? By being optimistic, reminding myself of my own positive points, looking at the positives in my life, enjoying the summer with my sons, reading, cooking, and doing all those Sisyphyian tasks that all mothers do (the laundry, cleaning, the dishes, and so on and so forth...it never ends, but it helps one forget the anxiety of uncertainty through the sheer dint of physical exertion).

 

You know, one reads about how people waste away while pining for something...not in my case. Did I mention I sometimes go into a storm of cooking? I also eat with a vengeance (mostly desserts) to deal with the stress. It's no wonder I'm not losing weight!

 

It always helps to have a good book by one's side. Especially if it's romantic - well, not the kind of romance between couples but more a sort of awakening, an appreciation of sensuality...in the way one appreciates a beautiful day. I find I invariably end up in the Literature section of the library, despite having visited the place for something more prosaic!

 

My happiest hours have been spent on the couch, curled up with a book...with the happy sounds of my sons playing in the background, or with the younger one flopped fast asleep on my stomach while the older one was busy with craftwork (or his Transformers, dinosaurs, Legos, or whatever else!)...the afternoon light slanting into our living room, the rippling shadows of leaves on our carpet, the birds in the our garden, and the whirr of insects...a very humdrum domestic scene, I agree, but for me, one of infinite patience and joy.

I feel quite helpless in my job search, and the feeling of not having control makes me angry. I think of my mother who was already flying high by her late-30s. She was a V.I.P. bureaucrat, a first-class executive, mother of 2 daughters who could provide them with the best education, a privileged life, full-time housekeeper and guards...she could do a lot for her children because she was powerful enough to do so.

I keep reminding myself that my life is different, but the helplessness at not being able to give my sons the best eats away at me.

I want to keep enjoying the summers with my children, and I hope I get just the job that fits in with my lifestyle, life philosophy, personality, and work-family goals...and of course, the right income (how could I forget?!?).

Facebook = Wastebook

Why is Facebook a waste of time?

 

Well, time is money.

 

Time spent on Facebook is unproductive.

 

Therefore, Facebook is a waste of time.

This post on Facebook would also be a waste of time and space if it were not for the need to point out 'why', etc, etc.

 

I was under the impression that life-changing news (e.g. - a baby, graduation, a first home, marriage, a grim diagnosis, loss of a loved one...) was to be shared with a group of well-wishers who would in turn take the trouble to send a card/ call/ email you, at the very least? I thought great news called for more than a cursory comment or 'like'. I mean, if they really cared and had access to email (everyone does nowadays...I hope!), then getting the message across shouldn't be a problem.

 

As for FB 'likes' and comments, people say that this is how the 20-somethings communicate - only short, abbreviated messages. Ok, point noted. What about the 30 and above crowd that is also active on FB? Does this mean their communicative abilities have regressed?

 

Here's FB's value differentiator - sharing photos...especially if one lived away from one's family. But again, there's also Picasa and Flickr, with options for making comments! Yes, I am aware that FB made some changes thanks to which you can control who sees what...still, if person B 'liked' your pic, that update could be clicked on and viewed by person C who could be a total stranger to person A. I am frankly surprised that such loopholes exist despite FB's birth in the early 2000's.

I thought FB's strong point - more than photo sharing - might have been its ability to conjure flash mobs. How useful during a revolution, a sales event, or just to make a point! Of course, only if FB were allowed during such times/ in those countries, provided one had internet access. 

 

As regards everything else...the world has become so well connected that one doesn't need FB to communicate. If you really want a good chat, nothing beats the phone (use calling cards or get a vonage connection), Skype, Whatsapp, etc.

 

So what IS FB's vision then? What it always was meant to be - a kind of club where all members imagine their online networks to be exclusive, special, genuine, and so on...and thus get a high from attracting attention. Successful attention-seeking has become the hallmark of feeling like you belong, replacing the real world, actual value of one's social influence...perfect for for kids who prefer to play online instead of making direct facial contact, while finishing assignments and projects...and to make a point about who's connected with whom (ever read comments like "I'm going to call you this w/e!", "Looking forward to our picnic at xyz"...?). Exhibitionism and exclusion at its social best.

FB is also a great place to snoop around, stalk others, collect information, and...gossip. From what I have observed, NOBODY is above this - self-appointed guardians of any faith, moderates, or radicals of any country alike. Believe me when I say this, social bullies do very well on FB. Female bullies in particular.

 

Sure, we can argue about literary fiction as also being a kind of virtual world....albeit a very lonesome one, because the reader has only fictional characters for company. Well, guess what - with literary fiction or non-fiction, one is gleaning some kind of self-knowledge and developing one's insightfulness. Some fiction is positively chockfull of information brilliantly written (Amitav Ghosh's novels, for instance).

 

With FB, one is deluding oneself by equating the traffic of online connections as actual friendships. What do you learn from them? Well, apart from who is cozying up to whom (and even that can be faked online), as proven by a German study it was heartache, jealousy, upset emotions very unlike those exhibited online. Let's face it, not everyone is one's well wisher. Which brings one to the question - how does one define a friend? Does the 'friend' need to know certain details about your life?

 

Thus I explained my decision to quit FB in Dec 2011, to a bunch of Indian and Pakistani women who could only look at my decision to quit as 'escapism' - can you believe this?? Other wise observations they made were "OMG what brought this on??", "It's only a social network!!", and the stellar "You have gone into hiding!". 

Apparently, chucking online social networking is done only by insecure and touchy folk. Ok, I AM touchy, but that's because I want something genuine and I am willing to take a stand about it. Besides, if I had something to hide wouldn't I be touching up my online life, living a sham?

 

This, from women who get their sense of self from the number of responses to their humdrum, mind numbing, immature attempts at self-promotion. Yawn. I can hear an old friend of mine - who recently moved back to India - state, "You are looking for depth in the wrong place".

A short while after having been subjected to this ridiculous round of queries, I read this news report about how people are leaving FB in droves..."FB is SO 2010!"...or so one of the quotes went. FB was a fad, and now it is old hat.

Immigration and Planting Roots. Quote from Ha Jin's 'A Free Life'

Ha Jin has been one of my favorite writers, ever since I read his 'Waiting' back in 2000, when we were living in Singapore. I have read all his novels since then and own most of them (which is to say, not many...of the 6 that he has written).

 

He has the talent to hold the attention of the reader. I find that when I begin any one of his novels, I simply can't put it down. I can't function normally and become a couch potato, with my nose buried in his novel, procrastinating all my chores - be it doing the laundry (that never ending job!) or worse, playing hooky with my sons' summer classes.

 

I am not too fond of his poetry. His prose is certainly eloquent, perhaps more so because he weaves in Chinese idioms for illustration - especially in 'Waiting' and 'The Bridegroom and Other Stories'.

'A Free Life' begins well and seems consciously fictional. It moves into a semi-autobiographical documentary in the latter half, recording the humdrum details of the Wu's life in Georgia, and Nan's epiphanies about himself and his purpose. Still, a good read. Perhaps not brilliant fiction, but certainly an honest depiction of the lives of immigrants in America.

 

What draws me to Ha Jin is his undebatable, firm bottomline - haha, not what you're thinking - but his conviction to write honestly, and to live authentically. That's rare and kinda sweet.

 

Many a time, I've thought about Ha Jin as a kindred soul...or as one of his characters hears himself described - "A lone wolf." and "A real individual." These words are actually thrown as insults at the character, but he heartily claims them without defending or apologizing for his beliefs. Like them, I give a damn for the opinions of the herd too.

 

To be honest, this is pretty much the definition of most lovers of Literature, and very true of most writers. They live authentically and unapologetically. Not for them the glory of mass adulation arising from some superficiality or political games - even at the social level. This often results in them being misunderstood because they think ahead of their times. Well, they push change. Good for them.

Here is the passage from Ha Jin's recent book ('A Free Life', 2007) that struck a chord in me...The issue he ponders is not the challenge of being an immigrant but the question of switching one's loyalty to the adopted country. The US passport is a sublime vista hankered after by many immigrants who sell their souls without a second thought, for material gains. The question here is whether or not they will be true to their adopted country, and the authenticity of their oath.

 

Ha Jin puts it very well:

 

"Nan hadn't applied for the citizenship with a light heart...His home and livelihood were here. The previous spring, he had read an article by Yong Chu, the old poet teaching Chinese at a college in Rhode Island...In his article "Why I Don't Want to Be an American Citizen", Mr. Chu wrote candidly that he was unsure which side he would take if the United States went to war with China. The citizenship would require him to be willing to bear arms to defend the U.S. Constitution and fight any foreign enemy...Chu stated that his heart wouldn't allow him to side against his motherland and that he wanted to live honestly, so he wouldn't get naturalized. Now Nan wasn't certain which side he'd take if a war broke out between China and the United States. This uncertainty tormented him, but he also knew that once he swore his allegiance at the oath ceremony, he'd have to abide by his word. To him, a promise should weigh more than a country."

 

Now here's the part that I love haha -

 

"He thought of a pair of metaphors, comparing China to his mother and the United States to the woman he loved. He was sure that someone else had used this trite analogy before; nonetheless, it helped him sort out his emotions. As a grown man he couldn't live with his mother and must choose to join the woman of his heart. Certainly he wouldn't taunt or beat his mother if there was a fight between the old lady and his beloved. All he could do was help them understand each other even though they might never see eye to eye."

 

Ha Jin is like an old friend who pops up to remind me of my life's path. Here is a poem he ends 'A Free Life' with...It's called 'Another Country', and captures the creative process (mostly of writing and philosophy, I believe...but could also be applied to creating any kind of art...):

 

Another Country

 

You must go to a country without borders,

where you can build your home

out of garlands of words,

where broad leaves shade familiar faces

that no longer change in wind and rain.

There's no morning or evening,

no cries of joy or pain;

every canyon is drenched in the light of serenity.

 

You must go there, quietly.

Leave behind what you still cherish.

Once you enter that domain,

a path of flowers will open before your feet.

 

I might just go away to the Iowa Writer's Workshop and consider how I might harness my emotions and thoughts that fall about like drunken men...