Day 10 - The True Test of a Marriage

The true test of a marriage is not in how you stand by each other in sickness, health, richer, poorer, blah blah blah. No, the true test of a marriage is in how you work from home together - on the same day.

Many employers think they are doing their employees a huge  favour by allowing them to work from home. And it is indeed a great boon. But what if your spouse's employer decided to bestow the same largesse? That's when things start getting sticky. You see, most households are not built to support two work-from-home people.

Take our case. On days that we both decide to work from home, there is raw turmoil in the house. We bicker over who gets to work out of the bedroon that boasts unparalleled luxuries like a door that can be closed to drown out the noise of the television and kids singing at the tops of their voices. The loser has to establish herself in the dining room, bang in the epicentre of the noisy everyday life that happens in our home. We quarrel over who gets to charge his/her laptop where, we bicker over who needs to drop the kids to school and over whose turn it is to entertain the sundry relatives who drop in "because we heard you were at home today".

Then there are other issues too. I can't work in my pyjamas. He will lounge around in t-shirt and shorts all day in a day-old salt-and-pepper (more salt than pepper I might add) beard. I take quick short breaks for my meals and then return to my desk. He drinks his tea, eats his breakfast, gobbles his lunch all while staring into the screen. He refuses to use any kind of headsets or mute his laptop forcing me to work with those irritatingly loud pings, crackles, and pops that can be heard from the next room. And if the wi-fi on his laptop freezes, he decides to unceremoniously reboot it - while I am in mid-mail, mid-chat, mid-something.

So, to those starry-eyed young ones who want to know whether it's for keeps, try this sure-fire test: work from home together for a few weeks. If you can survive that, you can survive anything. And add this line to your vows - In richness and in health, for richer, for poorer, through work from home arrangements and vacations..."

Day 9 - Is This Patriotism?

This Republic Day, we had a chief guest in our apartment, a Colonel in the Indian Army who had won several national awards for bravery. He was of course welcomed into our midst with great fanfare and excitement, and admonitions about posting photographs on social networking sites.

He spoke articulately and volubly about his experiences in Kargil and Siachen. The low pressures that could be fatal if not dealt with properly, the severely low temperatures that could cause hypothermia, the high altitudes that could make you go crazy. The separation from family, the palpable fear that one could very realistically leave the barracks and never return. The normally hyper-bratty tots listened in rapt attention as we all tried to imagine all these conditions sitting in our comfortable apartment surrounded by food and sun and fun and friends and family and freedom.

One piece of information was demanded, shared, repeated many times, and applauded. "We killed 23 Pakistanis in one takedown, and then another, and then three more," he announced and talked of a letter received from a 4-year-old boy beseeching him to kill at least one Pakistani for him. Applause and indulgent smiles. And the Colonel announced that he had obliged the child- 28 times over. More applause.

And then some time later after, a question from one rather inattentive child in our complex - or perhaps he had not learnt how to add yet - "Uncle, how many soldiers did you kill totally?" Applause again. "Well, let's see 23+ 1 + 4, that's 28." Deafening applause.

Maybe it's just me, maybe I'm not patriotic enough, but I found that exchange very very disturbing. Granted, securing our borders and keeping our troops safe entails killing - I know that. But I always thought it was a means to an end, not an end in itself. And sitting in our little amphitheatre, surrounded by chortling and well-fed children whose greatest worries were report cards and getting their hands on the latest gadget, hearing them baying bloodthirstily for the blood of another human being was deeply unsettling.

But not more unsettling than the applause that these questions received from the adults who are supposed to teach them respect and love and tolerance.

Day 8 - Maybe Would Be

Picture this - a young girl bearing trays of sojjis and bajjis towards an awkward and gawky young man flanked by his hyper-critical relatives. The sojjis are eaten as are the bujjis, small talk is conducted (and probably big talk too), and finally the all-important decision is made - It's a yes from both sides.

If you are anything like me, the gawky young man will want to drag you to meet everyone he has every exchanged a word with who happened to be in the city on that day. Which was fine, except that he hadn't the remotest idea how to introduce me - this is my, my, my...

We thought at the time that there was no word coined to describe who I was at that moment in time, not a fiance, certainly not a girlfriend, not even a friend yet come to that!

But we were wrong, there is a word - well, not really a word, it's just a modal auxiliary paired with a verb, not even strictly grammatically correct, but it exists.

Would-be: The pair of words that has so much hope buried in it - One day we 'would be' friends, lovers, fiances, spouses - not today, not yet, but someday. It is an expression that doesn't exist in any dictionary anywhere else in the world, but here where a marriage follows this trajectory...

1. Can be: Relatives, aunts, uncles, and grandparents exchange horoscopes of relatives of relatives of relatives hoping against hope that somewhere somehow a pair of horoscopes will fall in love.
2. Maybe: The horoscopes are all set and all the mathematics, economics, astronomy, geography, and history make sense, but boy needs to meet girl...
3 Would be: Yes, wedding bells will ring - and in some months they 'would be' man and wife.
4 Is: Wedding happens after a great deal of hullabaloo with invitations that never made it through the post, several lost items, and sleepless nights
5. Has been: Well, everything must come to an end whatever that end may be even when the relatives, horoscopes, and the people in question fell in love at one time...

For all those occasions where things don't go as planned, it gives a new spin on those reminiscences of the life that 'might have been'.

Day 7 - Me Versus Myself

Being an instructional designer has sucked the enjoyment out of life - Oh I don't mean my work-life balanace and the existential issues of being a working mom and all of that - that's fodder for another blog. No, I mean that as a learning developer, it is my job to demystify and simplify material and make sure it is put forth creatively and effectively. This is what interferes with life, which is neither intuitive nor simple.

Take an example. I go to watch an eminently watchable movie like Barfi. But can I enjoy the multi-media challenged comic hero who more than makes up with his super-kinesthetic prowess? Oh no. Throughout the movie I have two devils sitting on each shoulder bayoneting each other through my head.

"It's chronologically confusing, so when exactly was Jhilmil supposedly kidnapped and murdered - In the distant past, the not-so-distant past, the present or the future?" the learning developer in me rants.

"That's poetic licence," the other me responds.

"It's inconsistent - Barfi can engrave names of customers on stainless steel vessels using a steel gun, but can't write his own?" the learning developer pouts.

"Oh, don't be such a damp squib and a nitpick," says the other me.

"It's blatantly plagiarised, calling it Chaplinesque is one thing, lifting whole scenes entirely another! By that logic, we can all write Shakespearesque poetry," thunders the learning developer.

"But it's good, clean fun," whispers the regular me in a small voice.

No points for guessing who wins these shoulder-level diatribes every time.

When my daughter regales me with the scarily complicated love triangles, quadrilaterals, and other nameless polygons in her seventh grade class, can I just smile indulgently at these silly little pre-teen romances? No, draw me a visual flowchart I hear myself saying, I can't keep up with who has a crush on whom any more!
When my mother tells me a recipe, my mind does not accept vagaries like "as much salt as needed". It needs a precise amount. I need to know whether to use skimmed milk for a pudding or regular - 'whatever is in the fridge' isn't good enough.

Typos on signboards irritate me (except when they're hilarious like the 'multi-cousin' restaurant we saw in Mount Abu recently - you know the one where you take the numerous cousins who descend on you during Diwali), obscure and incorrect menus, web sites that make me click and click to no end, pixellated images all aggravate me.

Oh well, every job has its hazards, and these are mine. I just wish I had read the fine print.

Day 6 - Apps I'd Like To See

Now that I have progressed slightly beyond pigeon post and have bought myself an android something-or-other phone, here are some of the apps that I'd like to see on my phone. Some of them may already exist, and perhaps I, in my infinite ignorance of all things mobile-related, probably have not heard of it. If that is the case, please enlighten me, and perhaps not on Google Plus or Whats App, neither of which I use.

So here goes my list of Must-Have Apps, Nice-To-Have Apps, and Wish-Upon-A-Lonely-Star Apps:

Must-Have Apps:

1.      An emergency call button that does the following:

a.          Activates GPS and the Internet automatically

b.         Makes a call to the nearest police stations complete with GPS info

c.          Posts an SOS message on all social networks possible again with GPS check in

This would reduce complete dependence on strangers and the police in case of an emergency and allow friends to take action.

2.      A block feature in our phones like we do with messenger requests so that we can block tele-stalkers and tele-marketers alike.

Nice-To-Have Apps:

1.      An alarm that will surprise me by playing my favorite radio station - everyone on TV seems to wake up to it, but I can't seem to find it on my phone.

2.      A birthday registry app for those endless birthday parties that you have to attend if you have kids. Parents, please sign up for all the birthday gifts that you would like to see your little darlings receive till age 5, princess, geek, cowboy, winnie-the-pooh, outer space, garbage segregation, whatever theme you like.

Wish-Upon-A-Lonely-Star App:

E-wedding receptions: Oh people of the world who insist on tying the knot in some obscure part of the city - please go ahead and tie that knot and tie it tightly by all means- but do me a favour, invite your immediate flesh and blood to the actual smoke- and food-filled event and let us outer-circle members attend an e-reception. Our avatars can air kiss each other and exchange polite pleasantries and hand over e-vouchers to your avatars.

You don’t have to stand up there for hours smiling brightly at strangers and we don’t get our lungs filled with the smog of Bangalore's roads! Talk about win-win!

Day 5 - The Art of Shopping

I have just one rule when it comes to shopping, especially boring grocery shopping - keep it as simple as possible! If the veggies are neatly washed and bound into pre-measured packages, that works for m. If they're chopped up and ready to cook, even better. If they're pre-cooked, awesome! I go to only all-under-one-roof supermarkets even if the prices are said to go through said roof.

Contrast that with an aunt of mine who has perfected the fine art of frugal shopping. She and her friends know exactly where one can buy tamarind and rice and various dals for only half the normal price. There are a few catches to this miracle of economics of course. One, you have to visit several parts of the next state to get the stuff and two, you have to buy enough to feed half the country.

No problem, they have a system that will put the most sophisticated of SAP systems to shame. They set a date when all the aunties are relatively free, then hire a van, conscript a set of volunteers who will share the loot, pack an array of gunny bags, and set off on their expedition. After a day of going from Tamarind Town to Coconut County to Vegetable Valley, they divide the stuff and its cost into halves, quarters, eighths and sixteenths, depending on the pre-planned number of takers for each item. They divide the cost of the van as well as the tip for the driver equally by the number of people, and add the cost of the tender cocunt water that they bought en route (taking care to subtract it from the share of the aunty who declined thanks to her unpredictable bladder). All financial transactions completed, it's up to each aunty to decide how to transport her share up to her home (or whether she prefers to build a new apartment around the sacks in the basement since that seems to be easier at the moment).

Once the sacks are all in the house somehow, they have to be sun-dried to fend off various zoological specimen that threaten to march in. So out to the balcony they go where through weeks of poojas and chanting, the aunties have already made an airtight agreement with God so that it will not rain for the next few hours.

Now to make space for all the stuff, the kitchen and pantry have to be completely cleaned out, during the course of which several long-lost treasures are re-discovered - some ancient spare parts of a mixie used by an ancestor long since gone and some blades of a fan that nobody recalls. Obviously these priceless possessions cannot be thrown out and new equally loving homes have to be found for them. Finally after a week of planning, designing, and implementing, the groceries are all in place.

No wonder the meals we have in my aunt's place are so much more evocative than the ones in mine. Each chilly, each seed of mustard, each grain of rice has a story to tell.   

And it isn't just the vegetables and the pulses and rice either. A bottle of mango pickle demanded by one aunt in Bangalore from another in Chennai makes its tortuous way from Chennai to Delhi to Gujarat to Mumbai to Kerala and finally to Bangalore carried by various aunts-in-law, cousins twice removed, friends of friends, and strangers on buses, trains, taxis, and bullock carts. Fortunately the pickle is made to last for all eternity and is packed so tightly that even airport scanners can't get a glimpse of what's inside. One lick of that pickle and you can tell that it is a pickle of character, one that has seen life, unlike the insipid ones that I buy from my all-under-one-roof supermarkets with the fancy nutritional labels on them, the bottles that have seen nothing but the inside of the factory and the warehouse.

Note: To protect her privacy, pulses, and pickles, I have left my 'aunt' unnamed.

Day 4 - Games Kids Play

Caution: The following poem may conjure up some disturbing images.

She wrote a letter to her friend
And on the way she dropped it,
We added text and graphic pics,
And then we photoshopped it.

we loved playing Duck Duck Goose,
Because of the way she looked,
It didn't matter if she ducked or not,
Her goose was pretty cooked!

We sat in our closed circle,
Secret codes pressed through our palms
But no one would catch us out we knew,
No one would raise alarms!

We played Doctor Doctor and treated her
With our own brand of meds,
We even turned her inside out,
Because you see, we're only 'kids'!

And kids just need to have their fun,
That's what the docs and lawyers say,
It doesn't matter whom we hurt,
But kids just need to play!