All My Life's A Circle

Everybody hula-hooped as kids, right? And we were all so good at it, right? Like flawless?

So what happened?

I decided hula hoops would be a great thing to introduce at Latika Vihar, but I thought I'd better get back in practice myself first. So I went to the toy store in Dehradun to buy one. To my dismay, all they had to offer was one that came in six pieces and had to be assembled! Not only that, it was very small.  Counter-intuitively, the bigger it is, the easier it is to keep up. I tried to find one when I was next in Delhi, but they too had only the dismantle-able kind.

Not to be defeated by details, I started practicing with the tiny thing but didn't get very far. It really was small.

A few weeks into my project I had to interrupt it to go to Bangalore and then Chennai where I visited with my old friend Shaila Shivdas. While there we happened to visit a book/toy store which had PROPER HULA HOOPS for sale! I was tempted to buy several, but decided to settle for one because I was a bit worried about how I would get it back on the plane.

Shaila, who had once worked for an airline, said they would probably make me check it in, but I was determined to try my luck at getting it accepted as a carry-on.

At the airport, I checked one bag and the woman at the counter said "What about . . . THAT?" pointing doubtfully.

"I'm going to carry it on," I said confidently.

"I don't think they'll let you," she said.

"Oh I think they will. But I'll come back if they don't."

Of course, I wasn't so sure at all. But bravado is key when confronting rules.

I moved off toward the security line. Right away I could see what the problem was going to be. There was no way the hula hoop was going to fit through the x-ray machine. As I was standing there, the security woman glared at me.

"That won't fit through the machine," she said flatly.

"To mai kya karun?" I asked innocently. ("So what should I do?")

"Arre! Hindi bolti hai! (She speaks Hindi!)"

She stood up, laughing. "You speak HINDI?"

"Ji haan."

She couldn't stop laughing.

"What IS that thing?"

"Yeh to HULA HOOP hai."

"She speaks Hindi," she called over her shoulder to the other security people, who by now had gathered in a small crowd to gape at me.

"How does it work?"

"Mai aapko dekadoon?" (Shall I show you?)

With that, I dropped my bags and demonstrated a few spins. She was highly amused.

"Sir ko dekhana parega." ("You'll have to show my boss.")

So off we went to meet her supervisor.

"Yeh kya cheez hai?" he asked, clearly unimpressed. ("What the heck is this?")

"It's a HULA HOOP!" I said, newly empowered. "Shall I show you?" Another spin. He gaped, then laughed. "Teek hai." he said. "Jaane do." ("Ok. Let her go.")

By now, the whole security squad was on my side, like a gang of long-lost cousins. They ushered me through, still laughing and exclaiming about the unlikeliness of a videshi like me speaking such excellent Hindi (hey, I'm writing this. I can say what I want.)

I had just gone through to the other side and was repacking my laptop and putting on my shoes when another security guard came breathlessly up to the gate. My champion said apologetically "He missed the show. Can you do it again?"

So once more, this time for the admiring throngs on the other side of security as well, but by now I was losing steam:

And I lost the hoop as well:

But by now everyone was so cheerful and supportive there was nothing but delight:

The hoop made it home safely and will soon be introduced at Latika Vihar. Watch this space for more fun and diversion.

Expertise

Part of being a mother is learning to feed your children. Pregnant, we "eat for two", avoid alcohol, make sure to get in all the vitamins and the green leafies. Nursing, we suddenly realize that breasts have a completely different purpose than the one we've been used to as fetching young teens, and the first few weeks are a comedy of errors and false starts as we deal with a hungry baby and very sore nipples. And then the semi-solids and solids and finger food and letting them make a mess and then teaching them to make cookies and do the dishes and set the table and right on up the scale till those little infants are serving a four course meal with grace and elan.

At each stage, we start out inept, clumsy and a bit feckless and end up experts, authorities, the last word.  When our kids want recipes, it's us they turn to first.

Most of us don't figure on tube feeding in this scheme of things and praise the Good Lord for that.  But for those of us who do, praise the Good Lord again, because tube feeding is miraculous, the sweet little technological answer to a host of nutritional nightmares which must have driven earlier generations of parents to despair.

Moy Moy has had a tube in now for nearly five years and initially, we were completely baffled by it. Everytime we opened it to pour the food down, she would spurt the contents of her tummy into our faces. If she coughed, it was projectile. Sometimes we would pour and nothing would move - the food would just sit there in the funnel. I would be in tears at times trying to work it out.

But now it's hard to even remember those days, so casual and expert we have become. I realized just how expert today when her new tube arrived by courier (we have to change it every six months) and I decided to do it myself.

Sebastian would have been happy to come, but he has just returned from Holland and we have a million other things piled up for him to attend to. Besides, I can do it myself.

And so I did. Sterile technique and all. Withdraw the little balloon full of water that keeps the tube inside her tummy (you attach an empty syringe to the blue thingy at the top and suction it out), pull the tube out (this part takes firm courage), and then insert the new one and put the water in using the same procedure in reverse. It's an amazing little contraption and I just feel so grateful to have it.

And not to brag, but I feel proud of the endless capacity we all have to adjust to new realities and to learn new skills. Because every mother wants to feed her child. We'll do anything to accomplish it.

Masiji

 She looks like a kindly old lady, but she is formidable.

She has very strong views on just about everything and mostly she keeps them to herself, to be revealed at an appropriate moment. That moment tends to be when something else is going on. I used to think this was because she is hard of hearing, but now I am beginning to see a pattern. I think she slips it in under the radar as a test balloon - let's see what happens, she may be thinking. If the reaction is adverse, she can cover it up in the confusion of several conversations happening simultaneously.

This morning at breakfast, for instance:
I am helping myself to fruit (I AM HELPING MYSELF TO FRUIT) and Ravi is saying:

Ravi: I have this interesting . . .

Masiji: Why don't you eat more fruit? I buy fruit; you never eat it.

Ravi: . . . idea.

Masiji: What's the fun of buying fruit if no one eats it?

Mummy looks up, looks at Masiji, then looks at me quizzically.

Me: I'm eating fruit, Masiji.

Mummy is still looking at me trying to figure out what is going on.

Me: Look! (pointing to bowl full of fruit)

Masiji (to the ceiling): Hah! She never eats anything.

Ravi: So I have this interesting . . .

Mummy, to me: What is she saying?

Me: She's saying I don't eat enough fruit.

Masiji: You don't eat enough of anything.

Ravi: . . . idea.

Masiji: Neither does she. I cut a papaya. Well, I have Padma cut a papaya. Have one piece, I say to her. Have two. Ah!Ca! she says. Grapes? NO! I buy all this fruit. Yesterday I went to the fruit stand.

Ravi: We could paint the roof white . . .

Masiji: Dehradun people are too dry. Like sticks.

Ravi: I read an article which says if you do . . .

Masiji: I asked for sweet oranges and you would think I had asked for mangoes in January.

Ravi gives up. Mummy smiles. I eat my fruit in silence.

Curried Pumpkin Soup: A Perfect Meal

 

Here's a recipe for a pumpkin soup which I guarantee you will love. I have made it for over a hundred people and it has never yet failed to please.

Ingredients:

• 2 medium onions, finely chopped (2 cups)
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 4 large garlic cloves, minced
• 3 1/2 tablespoons minced peeled fresh ginger
• 2 teaspoons ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon ground coriander
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• black pepper to taste
• 3/4 teaspoon dried hot red pepper flakes
• 2 (15-oz) cans solid-pack pumpkin (3 1/2 cups; not pie filling) (here in India, we use fresh!)
• 4 cups water
• 1 1/2 cups vegetable stock (12 fl oz)
• 1 (14-oz) can unsweetened coconut milk (not low-fat)
• 2 Tbsp olive oil
• 2 teaspoons black mustard seeds
• fresh curry leaves

If you are using fresh pumpkin, peel it and cut it in chunks, then boil it till soft. Puree it in a blender or mash it with a fork till smooth. 

Cook the onions in the butter in a wide 6-quart heavy pot over low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, 3 to 5 minutes. 

Add garlic and ginger and cook, stirring, 1 minute. 

Add cumin and coriander and cook, stirring, 1 minute. 

Stir in salt, black pepper, red pepper flakes, pumpkin, water, broth, and coconut milk and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, 30 minutes. 

Heat oil in a small heavy skillet over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then add mustard seeds until they begin to pop, about 15 seconds. Add the curry leaves and cook 5 seconds, then pour this mixture into the soup. Stir until combined well and season soup with salt. Soup can be thinned if necessary with additional water. 

Serve with a good whole wheat bread, lashings of butter and a tossed salad. A perfect little feast.

Ain't Complaining

It's the Lenten homestretch. Today is Palm Sunday and tomorrow we move into Holy Week: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday - Easter!

While the trend now is to do good things rather than give up good things, I find the old discipline helpful.

When I was a kid, I used to give up chocolate or desserts. For many years, I gave up butter. Once, in a special burst of piety, I gave up bread as well.

Why do we do it? I remember trying to explain it to an atheist friend in Mumbai a few years ago and sounding awkward and unconvincing (or maybe I was just embarrassed). One reason is because it's important to see what controls you. Remember the Janis Joplin song?: "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose . . ." Sometimes the things holding us back from freedom are so slight it's humiliating.We would like to think of ourselves as large and passionate with sins and passions to match, but in fact we're more likely to be done in by that desperate need for coffee or air conditioning or hot showers than by forbidden love or espionage or a chance to juggle the books at work for a cool million.

This Lent, I gave up wine and computer games. Both had developed into unhealthy and slightly obsessive pleasures . . . especially, oddly enough, the computer games. Or game. I was only playing one: a very silly one whose name I will not divulge for fear that you too will become addicted. For the first few days, I didn't know what to do with my hands. As soon as I went near my computer my hands - all by themselves - would automatically open the game and try to start playing. It was a conscious act of will not to let them. After three days, I had mastered the automatic pilot problem, but even now, there are times when I wander around aimlessly, not sure how to occupy myself. Instructive.

As for the wine-less evenings: very difficult! But the mornings after! No fuzzy, aching head, no metallic taste in my mouth, no trying to remember whether I had consumed two glasses or three . . . and the payoff in terms of productivity has been astonishing. I had had no idea how the edge gets dulled and blunted by too much to drink the night before.

I did cheat a few times (there is a traditional St Patrick's Day dispensation, and then one for those whose birthdays fall during Lent, etc. etc) but by and large I toed the line. As for the computer games - I didn't slip up even once.

But these concrete physical habits, while challenging, are easy compared to habits of the mind and heart. Physical habits can be corralled and observed more easily. You can guard against them by not having wine in the house or leaving the laptop at the office. Your choices are right there in front of you and most of the time you make them consciously.

My third discipline was to STOP COMPLAINING and to be honest, I can't even tell you how I've done. I've caught myself mid-whine so many times it's clear I must be doing it a lot more than I realize. It's all-pervasive! It's too hot, it's too cold, I wish he wouldn't do that, why does she have to call now, can't I ever eat in peace, there goes the phone again, why does he have to put it there, I'm always the one, that makes me sick, that makes me mad . . . as often as not, it's just a voice in my head and Lord, how it does go on! It can almost be funny it's so incessant.

But in fact, of course, it's not funny at all. It's boring and pointless and a damn nuisance. So I have enjoyed the chance this Lent has provided to become aware of it and begin to root it out. Stay tuned for sweetness and light and a totally positive new spin on everything.

Priyam Bhargava: Birthday Girl

My mentor and role-model Vina, soon to be 80, has a secret recipe for happiness: make young friends, she advises.

At 52, I am in that category for her and our friendship makes me feel good while it keeps her in touch with a whole world she might otherwise know nothing of.

But I am just one of many, and I watch with amazement as she cultivates the friendship of my own children, the young staff of the Foundation, her grandchildren and her great nieces and nephews. It's a gift and a lesson and I am honoring her by celebrating one of our own young ones: Priyam Bhagarva who turns 24 today and who is one of the bright lights in MY life.

Priyam joined the Foundation over a year ago and I am still in awe of her energy and devotion. She has a wealth of knowledge and understanding about marketing and fund-raising, yet she remains endlessly patient with my caution and nervousness. There is literally nothing she can't do where computers and design are concerned - all I have to do is send her the problem and she comes up with a solution. I am trying to imitate her. It's an attitude. She assumes that the world is her oyster, and that the answers, like pearls, lie within. Who am I to contradict her?

It is a joy to work with a person like Priyam. She reminds me every day of why I am here, of what is possible and what remains to be accomplished.

The other day I found a photo of Priyam as a child at Latika Vihar. In those days, she was one of our bright stars, one of the many, one whom I watched, knowing she was destined for a good life, with purpose and accomplishment. But never, back then, did I dream she would be one of my young colleagues, a member of our staff and a profound influence in the Foundation . . .

And so today, I join her friends and family in celebrating her birthday and her length of days, in giving thanks for such a vibrant and dedicated young woman and asking for her health and long life, that all the many things she wants to and can accomplish will come to pass, and that what she has to offer will be celebrated and renowned. How lucky we are to know her!

Scoop: Quality Control

Moy Moy has been eating Ensure for five years now. She goes through two tins every week which makes 520 tins since she got the tube put in.

520 tins.

Each one comes with a little blue scoop as the standard measure and I always save the one from the previous tin because I am always nervous that it will be missing in the new one.

But hurrah for Ensure! It hasn't been missing even once. 520 times I have opened those tins and each time when I discover that familiar pale blue scoop buried yet again in that powdered food,  I say a little prayer of thanks to the combined forces of technology and business and medicine and simple old-fashioned day to day care which keep our darling girl fed. Aren't we lucky to be alive here and now, in this century with these solutions? And whoever those factory workers are who make sure a little scoop is included in each and every tin: I salute you!