I have always wanted to get a tattoo, and now reading this article I have made up my mind.... I will get a tattoo done. Here is the link http://io9.com/#!5768038/science-proves-that-teachers-should-get-tattoos but for those too bored to read through, it broadly says this - "128 undergraduates' perceptions of tattoos on a model described as a college instructor were assessed. They viewed one of four photographs of a tattooed or nontattooed female model. Students rated her on nine teaching-related characteristics. Analyses indicated that the presence of tattoos was associated with some positive changes in ratings: students' motivation, being imaginative about assignments, and how likely students were to recommend her as an instructor."
I now have a rational reason for a personal decision. I wish I had a few teachers with tattoos as well. I am sure his (definitely if it was a ‘her’) lectures would be more likely to be filled. Kids would like teachers with a bit of wild side to them! Now to figure a good tattoo artist. What would I like to tattoo? Well that’s simple – anything that denotes, yes, - opposites must reconcile. So I either go with the yin and yang or go with the Natraj.
Talking about teachers – we wiggled more stuff out of Jispa of her tryst with her teacher and birds. It seems she showed a picture of a parakeet and called it a parrot. To the uninitiated it’s the same. But to a child who has been going on bird watching vacations since three four years – it’s the ultimate sacrilege. She pointed out that these are parakeets and that you only get parrots in cages that people keep after importing them from some other country. India does not have parrots. But the teacher said, no you get them in the jungles, but Jispa has been to enough jungles in India to figure out that its wrong. You get parakeets in India. Jispa was pretty tired of her teacher. “She just isn’t obeying me”. Obeying? Wow that comment is going to stick for some time to come.
Then when a friend spoke about seeing a parrot from her house that had a red ring around its neck, Jispa immediately identified it as the rose ringed parakeet. But her teacher said – ‘that’s advanced’. Then her teacher sowed a picture of a kite (the bird). She said, miss that’s a pariah kite. Her teachers standard refrain ‘that’s advanced’. So I was having a chat with her Jispa and we were jointly lamenting about her school, when Jispa said that once she was told to write a essay or something about winter. Jispa wanted to write about winter having the winter solstice and how that is the longest night in the year. Her teacher’s reaction? Yup you got it right ‘that’s advanced’.
I guess its difficult teaching precocious bunch of 8 year olds. Nopes I don’t think Jispa is super extra talented. All kids have a super specialisation. Somebody will be an expert on cars, some of snakes, some on lizards, some on football, some on music and some on birds. They naturally veer towards something they like and I guess many time sit lead by the family. And then they like to show their talents in school, leaving the poor teacher flummoxed. So if the teacher were to listen to these kids, then regular studies would be an issue. But also I guess the teacher must have a better reaction. If she would have heard her and believed in her then the class would have been better off. Possibly she should have told Jispa to make a short presentation on birds or explain some of them or anything. The class would possibly have been richer for the experience. But as their favourite line that keeps popping up – that’s advanced.
Which makes me think, if she had a teacher who had a tattoo that was clearly visible? What do you think her reaction might have been? A bit different from what she got? A bit more consideration perhaps? Now suddenly the emergence of a tattoo on a teacher changing student opinion may not sound that incredulous.
Now where can I get a good tattoo parlour? And yes, I have to get it done in a visible spot.
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An update on the swimming marathon – well in practice the coach showed how easily they do 80 laps. Jispa does it in 49 mins and then the coach makes them do more rounds after that. And after the session is done, the kids simply jump out and hit the showers and fool around. No one is out of breath or is panting. They are just fine. Cool. But Jispa will miss the competition tomorrow as she has to attend her cousin’s ceremony. Jasmine’s brother’s son’s ‘mundan’. Cool. Whatever!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
he who laughs last...
We had an interesting time last week. We realised that now we were moving into a prenting zone that increasingly would have situations where you know less and less about what to do or behave. Jispa was having a taekwondo competition in school on Saturday and on Monday while she was practising in school, she over did her practice kicking. By mistake she ended up kicking a pillar and got her tiny toes hit in the process. It was ok whole day and she even swam till it was time to sleep and it hurt a bit. I saw it was swollen and feared a fracture.
As a kid I used to get hurt quite a bit, I gave got bruised, cut, hit but I have never got a fracture. I so wanted one. The fun of wearing plaster to school on which everyone would be able to write messages etc. I always used to get a hit and then get an x-ray only to come back disappointed.
The next day she missed school for some x-rays and the result was negative – no fracture. So we went to our ayurvedic doc to get some medicines to heal the foot and to reduce the swelling. The question now was – what about the competition. I did not care two hoots about it. It’s just an internal competition and that doesn’t really matter, does it? Jispa obviously wanted to take part and doc was ambivalent. If it does not hurt much she could go. Jasmine called up the teacher and gave her an update. In the following days her teacher caught up with her and pumped her up. Jasmine was almost pissed. She told Jispa ‘ you are my girl, you are my best kicker, you got to do it.’
Now what to do? Jispa is pumped up and so is her teacher. I would rather not and Jasmine is with me on this.
Jispa also takes part in inter club swimming meets. There one marathon coming up. What? I asked? A swimming marathon? How many laps? 80 laps of 25meters. WOW. NO was my response. How on earth would she do it? Jasmine too was confused. We asked her coach. Her coach was like – ‘we can take a call. It’s ok. Ask Jispa if she wants to do it?’. Ask Jispa? How would she know? Then Jasmine told me that Jispa does around 50- 60 laps a day while in class in any case. Wow. That’s cool, but 80 laps. Her coach thought about and discussed it with the senior coach and came back and said – go ahead. Jasmine was still wondering when the coach said ‘do it if Jispa wants to do it. On her ability to do 80 laps – that’s ok. She CAN swim 80 laps.’
Look at these situations. As a parent you want to push the child but you don’t want to PUSH the child. You have an idea of her abilities but you don’t really KNOW of her abilities. Here you may disagree with the coach but you know that the coach is probably right. So now we are entering territory where the parents takea back seat and simply watch. I guess we can only be there to encourage and not much else. I probably know jack shit of swimming and even less of taekwondo.
Any ways... her school competition was on Saturday and she was fighting a girl one year elder. That’s a big thing at her age. Given my class and some other commitments, I reached just 10 minutes ahead of schedule to know that it started ahead of schedule and I saw them as they just finished. Talk about timing. Exactly 5 seconds late. Drat. There were two rounds and the first was tied 4 all and the second Jispa lost 2-3. I just came in time to see them announce the result of the bout on the area and then see Jispa remove her protective gear. As the results were announced, Jispa started to cry. She suddenly realised her damaged foot was paining. While it might be true I think it was an emotional release. It’s a tough ask to go in and start kicking and fighting, especially for a girl and especially for Jispa. Jispa is not a natural one to pick a fight with someone. She has a lot of qualities like care, love and forgiveness in her. For her to kick constantly and attack might be an emotional roller coaster. Possibly the balm of winning might have been a soothing touch but the defeat would mean a chance to release. Possibly it was just that – the adrenaline wore off and her foot started to hurt. Possibly she psyched herself not to feel the pain for a few days and it now all gave way. Who knows? But anyways. Since her school is a tiny winy pond, she got a silver for her efforts. One bout you lose and get a silver? Possibly that’s her category or something. Only two in it and no more rounds... who knows. Quite frankly I don’t care. No point in competing in that really small pond.
As for the swim meet, that’s yet to happen. We have sent the entry, but the dates aren’t announced. So thats us relying on the teacher more than on parenting instinct.
But wait – there is still justice at last. AS a family we have been avid bird wacthers in the last few years with us each having our bird books and we keep roaming around spotting birds. Yesterday in class she had a session on birds of India where she told us that she kept correcting the teacher – Miss, that’s a crane not an egret and that’s the egret which you called a crane. The egret is a common bird you see everywhere, even from the bus while going to school. Whoops. Then she explained to the teacher that the bird you called pigeon is actually called the blue rock pigeon. Double triple whoops. It seems that the teacher did not really believe her. Also it seems she knew all the birds that the teacher spoke about. And many more :). Haha. The parent’s last laugh. So we do know a bit about teaching our kid, after all.
As a kid I used to get hurt quite a bit, I gave got bruised, cut, hit but I have never got a fracture. I so wanted one. The fun of wearing plaster to school on which everyone would be able to write messages etc. I always used to get a hit and then get an x-ray only to come back disappointed.
The next day she missed school for some x-rays and the result was negative – no fracture. So we went to our ayurvedic doc to get some medicines to heal the foot and to reduce the swelling. The question now was – what about the competition. I did not care two hoots about it. It’s just an internal competition and that doesn’t really matter, does it? Jispa obviously wanted to take part and doc was ambivalent. If it does not hurt much she could go. Jasmine called up the teacher and gave her an update. In the following days her teacher caught up with her and pumped her up. Jasmine was almost pissed. She told Jispa ‘ you are my girl, you are my best kicker, you got to do it.’
Now what to do? Jispa is pumped up and so is her teacher. I would rather not and Jasmine is with me on this.
Jispa also takes part in inter club swimming meets. There one marathon coming up. What? I asked? A swimming marathon? How many laps? 80 laps of 25meters. WOW. NO was my response. How on earth would she do it? Jasmine too was confused. We asked her coach. Her coach was like – ‘we can take a call. It’s ok. Ask Jispa if she wants to do it?’. Ask Jispa? How would she know? Then Jasmine told me that Jispa does around 50- 60 laps a day while in class in any case. Wow. That’s cool, but 80 laps. Her coach thought about and discussed it with the senior coach and came back and said – go ahead. Jasmine was still wondering when the coach said ‘do it if Jispa wants to do it. On her ability to do 80 laps – that’s ok. She CAN swim 80 laps.’
Look at these situations. As a parent you want to push the child but you don’t want to PUSH the child. You have an idea of her abilities but you don’t really KNOW of her abilities. Here you may disagree with the coach but you know that the coach is probably right. So now we are entering territory where the parents takea back seat and simply watch. I guess we can only be there to encourage and not much else. I probably know jack shit of swimming and even less of taekwondo.
Any ways... her school competition was on Saturday and she was fighting a girl one year elder. That’s a big thing at her age. Given my class and some other commitments, I reached just 10 minutes ahead of schedule to know that it started ahead of schedule and I saw them as they just finished. Talk about timing. Exactly 5 seconds late. Drat. There were two rounds and the first was tied 4 all and the second Jispa lost 2-3. I just came in time to see them announce the result of the bout on the area and then see Jispa remove her protective gear. As the results were announced, Jispa started to cry. She suddenly realised her damaged foot was paining. While it might be true I think it was an emotional release. It’s a tough ask to go in and start kicking and fighting, especially for a girl and especially for Jispa. Jispa is not a natural one to pick a fight with someone. She has a lot of qualities like care, love and forgiveness in her. For her to kick constantly and attack might be an emotional roller coaster. Possibly the balm of winning might have been a soothing touch but the defeat would mean a chance to release. Possibly it was just that – the adrenaline wore off and her foot started to hurt. Possibly she psyched herself not to feel the pain for a few days and it now all gave way. Who knows? But anyways. Since her school is a tiny winy pond, she got a silver for her efforts. One bout you lose and get a silver? Possibly that’s her category or something. Only two in it and no more rounds... who knows. Quite frankly I don’t care. No point in competing in that really small pond.
As for the swim meet, that’s yet to happen. We have sent the entry, but the dates aren’t announced. So thats us relying on the teacher more than on parenting instinct.
But wait – there is still justice at last. AS a family we have been avid bird wacthers in the last few years with us each having our bird books and we keep roaming around spotting birds. Yesterday in class she had a session on birds of India where she told us that she kept correcting the teacher – Miss, that’s a crane not an egret and that’s the egret which you called a crane. The egret is a common bird you see everywhere, even from the bus while going to school. Whoops. Then she explained to the teacher that the bird you called pigeon is actually called the blue rock pigeon. Double triple whoops. It seems that the teacher did not really believe her. Also it seems she knew all the birds that the teacher spoke about. And many more :). Haha. The parent’s last laugh. So we do know a bit about teaching our kid, after all.
Monday, February 07, 2011
I won... sheesh
Last Saturday was Jispa’s annual sports meet. This is a good time for most of us peleb to catch u[p on what celeb look like in real life. The high points of getting your child to a school which even the celebs prefer. What a pain. Here you will have all the normal mothers going gaga over the celebs and wanting to photograph them and be photographed with them. I am sure it’s quite a pain for the celeb. But as some other mini celeb (friend) told me, these stars would become even more insecure if no one approached them! Haha. The life of a goldfish perhaps!
Honestly I find pretty juvenile when the mothers approach these fellas for the photograph. I am happy and content to beat them in the fathers race. Speaking of which, I continued my winning streak at this race as well. it was pretty boring. There seems to be no real competition in my peer set. A tennis sport celeb (one of the celebrated doubles players) who obviously is pretty fit and fast has a kid ina lower age standard and hence does not compete with me. It would have been mighty fun to race against him. My race I dominated, lead from the start and had no real competition. This time I walked away with a bored and under achieved feeling as well. Last year I had worked on my technique, I had high foot lift, I ran on toes, I ran fast all through etc etc. This time I felt my technique was all wrong. I was lazy in the run to the event. This clearly showed me the power of simple preparations, trial runs, muscle memory and visualisations. One has to keep visualising how to play, how to run, what to do in a situation for one to be better at it. I won but it did not seem to fit all together. Somehow the legs did not know what really to do like last year. This time also ego got to me. Half way into the run I could see there was no real competition. I slowed down considerably towards the end of the run. Too many thoughts crossed my mind. Should I just walk across the finish line to show off, should I relax, should I .... what on earth was happening. EGO the main enemy of sport, the chance to show off in front of an audience. And all this in a mere 75 meter race? Dam shit. I took 10.25 seconds. Drat. If not for ego I should have done in max to max 9 seconds. Now that’s a good race. Pumping hard, the toes barely touching, hard push!
Jispa asked me how my race was. I told her I won but I was all wrong. No fun in winning without real technique. Next year I am determined to do better. Determined to run right. I play to wear the right stuff, tracks instead of jeans and better shirt than the loose flowing full sleeves t shirt I wore in sheer arrogance. It does not matter that I won, I am still hurting at the arrogance that I showed. Dam. This something I have always maintained. Sport is internal, you play for yourself, against yourself with you as your main competitor. Who cares about anyone else. That’s what makes swimming so interesting for me. I swim against myself every day. Even when I play cricket or squash. Who cares what the opponent is. It’s you playing yourself. After teaching Jispa all this about competition and me being stoic during her swimming competition the same day later, I made the same bloody error. Gallery! I think it comes close to ‘pride’ but I think deserves a mention by itself as the eight sin ‘show’.
Talking about encouraging your kids, after the sports day Jispa attended a swimming meet. There you always get whacko mothers shouting to their wards ‘PULL,PULL, PULL, KICK, KICK’. What the hell. They are standing at eth edge of the pool and shouting themselves hoarse. You even get father doing the same. Inside the pool is your champion going to hear you. Should your champion hear you or be in a zone all by himself. He is supposed to focus on his technique, the strokes and blank out everything. A huge quiet and calm. Whenever I have done well in cricket or any other sport. There is a huge quiet that descends over me. I can feel nothing, hear nothing, know nothing. I have been in that zone a few times. It does not matter what anyone is shouting. In fact if someone is being specific to you it irritates else lots of other noise just adds to the ‘silence’.
The last few times I ran I was oblivious to competition, to the crowd, I could only feel the ground being pushed under, I could only feel that I was all alone. I couldn’t think of anything except the finish line. Wow. And compare that to this time when I practically wrote a story in the ten seconds it took me to finish the race. Sheesh.
The zone is not something that comes automatically. You have to work on it. Think it through. Be prepared for it. Work on it and then in the middle it arrives. The muscles know what to do, the body knows where to move. Everything falls into place. Then you play as if an angel is inside of you. All falling into place. Effortlessly.
Hmm. Jispa goes to play squash on Saturday and Sunday. I use it to run the treadmills at the gymkhana. Let me see if I can work into that zone there itself. I think it’s possible. Coming to think of it, this Sunday, I had it at the treadmill for a few minutes, I was running beautifully. But somehow I look around and feel someone is looking at me. That’s when it breaks. I must pretty egocentric that I visualise people looking at me. I have to be above all this. Sport will probably help me. Keep me and my inflated head in check. Keep it down, simple and straight. Easier said than done.
I am sometimes afraid that even my humility might be a show. An act that is designed to make me look humble in front of people. Do I have genuine humility? Even at times. Can I help someone purely to help someone without any expectation of anyone looking at me, thinking about me or having an expectation of nice feelings? Be completely above it all. Is that possible? I believe it so. Difficult but not unachievable.
Honestly I find pretty juvenile when the mothers approach these fellas for the photograph. I am happy and content to beat them in the fathers race. Speaking of which, I continued my winning streak at this race as well. it was pretty boring. There seems to be no real competition in my peer set. A tennis sport celeb (one of the celebrated doubles players) who obviously is pretty fit and fast has a kid ina lower age standard and hence does not compete with me. It would have been mighty fun to race against him. My race I dominated, lead from the start and had no real competition. This time I walked away with a bored and under achieved feeling as well. Last year I had worked on my technique, I had high foot lift, I ran on toes, I ran fast all through etc etc. This time I felt my technique was all wrong. I was lazy in the run to the event. This clearly showed me the power of simple preparations, trial runs, muscle memory and visualisations. One has to keep visualising how to play, how to run, what to do in a situation for one to be better at it. I won but it did not seem to fit all together. Somehow the legs did not know what really to do like last year. This time also ego got to me. Half way into the run I could see there was no real competition. I slowed down considerably towards the end of the run. Too many thoughts crossed my mind. Should I just walk across the finish line to show off, should I relax, should I .... what on earth was happening. EGO the main enemy of sport, the chance to show off in front of an audience. And all this in a mere 75 meter race? Dam shit. I took 10.25 seconds. Drat. If not for ego I should have done in max to max 9 seconds. Now that’s a good race. Pumping hard, the toes barely touching, hard push!
Jispa asked me how my race was. I told her I won but I was all wrong. No fun in winning without real technique. Next year I am determined to do better. Determined to run right. I play to wear the right stuff, tracks instead of jeans and better shirt than the loose flowing full sleeves t shirt I wore in sheer arrogance. It does not matter that I won, I am still hurting at the arrogance that I showed. Dam. This something I have always maintained. Sport is internal, you play for yourself, against yourself with you as your main competitor. Who cares about anyone else. That’s what makes swimming so interesting for me. I swim against myself every day. Even when I play cricket or squash. Who cares what the opponent is. It’s you playing yourself. After teaching Jispa all this about competition and me being stoic during her swimming competition the same day later, I made the same bloody error. Gallery! I think it comes close to ‘pride’ but I think deserves a mention by itself as the eight sin ‘show’.
Talking about encouraging your kids, after the sports day Jispa attended a swimming meet. There you always get whacko mothers shouting to their wards ‘PULL,PULL, PULL, KICK, KICK’. What the hell. They are standing at eth edge of the pool and shouting themselves hoarse. You even get father doing the same. Inside the pool is your champion going to hear you. Should your champion hear you or be in a zone all by himself. He is supposed to focus on his technique, the strokes and blank out everything. A huge quiet and calm. Whenever I have done well in cricket or any other sport. There is a huge quiet that descends over me. I can feel nothing, hear nothing, know nothing. I have been in that zone a few times. It does not matter what anyone is shouting. In fact if someone is being specific to you it irritates else lots of other noise just adds to the ‘silence’.
The last few times I ran I was oblivious to competition, to the crowd, I could only feel the ground being pushed under, I could only feel that I was all alone. I couldn’t think of anything except the finish line. Wow. And compare that to this time when I practically wrote a story in the ten seconds it took me to finish the race. Sheesh.
The zone is not something that comes automatically. You have to work on it. Think it through. Be prepared for it. Work on it and then in the middle it arrives. The muscles know what to do, the body knows where to move. Everything falls into place. Then you play as if an angel is inside of you. All falling into place. Effortlessly.
Hmm. Jispa goes to play squash on Saturday and Sunday. I use it to run the treadmills at the gymkhana. Let me see if I can work into that zone there itself. I think it’s possible. Coming to think of it, this Sunday, I had it at the treadmill for a few minutes, I was running beautifully. But somehow I look around and feel someone is looking at me. That’s when it breaks. I must pretty egocentric that I visualise people looking at me. I have to be above all this. Sport will probably help me. Keep me and my inflated head in check. Keep it down, simple and straight. Easier said than done.
I am sometimes afraid that even my humility might be a show. An act that is designed to make me look humble in front of people. Do I have genuine humility? Even at times. Can I help someone purely to help someone without any expectation of anyone looking at me, thinking about me or having an expectation of nice feelings? Be completely above it all. Is that possible? I believe it so. Difficult but not unachievable.
Friday, February 04, 2011
not just any dental date
A ha the fun of having a computer while roaming around. I started writing this post while waiting for the most mundane. I am outside my dentist’s clinic. Well it’s not like I am a regular at the dentist, so I can’t really call her ‘my’ dentist. In fact I can’t remember the last time I was at the dentist. Recently Jasmine had got her root canal done and it cost us a bomb. Root canals do cost a lot and jasmine cant go to the community dentists so she ended up going to a dental studio. She finds the hygiene standards at the community run clinics a bit dodgy. As for me, I am game for practically anything. I have very low hygiene standards and I am known to pick wafers off the floor, dust them or blow some air and eat them. You know that typical guy thing. I look at it as a more macho thing... something like it builds immunity. So keep having it. In any case , there is enough shit in the atmosphere so you are like going to get enough of your germs just like that. A few friendly ones you pick up from the floor or the around will only help you. Hah!
This dentist in any case was a special visit. My elders weren’t and aren’t on the best of terms so we cousins don’t end up meeting too often. My generation couldn’t care less for the property disputes of our elders. But thanks to that we have never been very close. Compund that with the fact that we stay nuclear and os we have even less functions to go to. So basically we are almost cut off from our gene pool. My immediate siblings never understood the fights that our uncles and aunties had and we swore never to let money come in the way ever. Never to let protocol come in the way as well. life is too short to bicker over lesser issues.
So while I was placed in nariman point I used to get to the train everyday and there happily enough I once saw what looked my niece. I wasn’t very sure till she came up and asked me ‘wasn’t I her jaimit kaka’. Err yes. That was fun. Everyday in the morning you get to meet your niece. She is a happy fun person and it was pretty cool talking to her. She was studying to be a dentist. She passed out a few years ago and has started practising in some clinic. So when yesterday I felt a bit of pain in my teeth I used the opportunity to catch up with my favourite niece. Disclaimer – given that I hardly know any of my other nieces, itnot a great achievement. Hah! That was written as while we were talking about the fact that I had my computer open, she figured I blog. I have never tried to popularise my blog. Its been an open but a quite thing. If you know about it then fine. Else even better. So as she said she would one read it, I thought I would be nice and mean to her. I am always mean to her and pulling her leg.
In fact she is 26 and like all happy Indian gujju households, her mom is after her to get married. I don’t understand this marriage scare business. What there to get scared of marriage and commitment? Well its obviously easy for me to say that, as I obviously found someone to get married to. But I got married at 23 and had a child by the time I was 27. It did seem a bit young but I loved it. Today at 35 I have an eight year old. Soon at 40 she should be 13 a mini adult and hopefully I won’t be old and fuddy duddy. I can run with her, play with her and hopefully compete with her. She has already smashed me in swimming. I am waiting to have her taekwondo and squash skills develop so that I can play that as well with her. it would be a bit difficult if I was a bit older.
So our poor dentist niece has a poor role model to look up to. She is not exactly enthused with the prospect of getting married and I keep telling many youths like her that its not that bad. Sometimes all I do is just explain the superficial behaviour they sometimes exhibit. Something like rejecting this guy as she speaks with a local accent or he wears a printed shirt or something. The tables have changed and how... I guess my mom would not have had much say in choosing her husband, but I am happy that we Indians are slowly allowing our daughter to have a greater say. I guess now the pressure is put not physically but emotionally to say yes to a guy of the parents liking. Nice.
So while she explained her exasperation at the various guys she was seeing and choosing from (all crap according to her) , I gently nudged her to a marriage portal. It’s an interesting disintermediation. When these portals made an appearance around a decade ago I thought they would be all sleaze and the last resort for old unmarried / divorced men and women. I started looking at it with a little more respect when I heard that one of my friends met his wife through this portal. Interesting. You see profiles, you approach, you chat a bit, you become facebook friends and then you meet up and figure. Cool nah. Its a bit like dating. And the parents are now open to this new concept as well. I met one lady who I interviewed some time ago. She said she is a maharashtrian who family was after her to get married. So she went online and registered herself and met this guy who was a gujarati. Then she set it up herself and met the guys and decided to get married. All this I came to know when I asked her if her marriage was love or arranged. And she said sort of love. If you see the story I kind of agree with her. is that within the definition of love marriage or arranged marriage. A new term needs to be invented for this stuff – loranged. That sounds a bit like deranged? How about Arrove. Ya... you arrange the match and then you love and then you marry.
Like I was telling my niece – go on and register yourself. See some male profiles, check them out. a bit like ‘body shopping’. In the traditional sphere the women used to feel like they are on display with the men coming in to meet and ‘grade’ them. Now the game is more equal I guess. Men and women have equal body shopping rights! Yay yay!
These are small steps to a new world. That’s why I have so much faith in the Indian dream playing out. Women – we haven’t factored the rise of the women in this economic dream. Their rise gives me great confidence.
So in the end my niece was disappointed. I had no reason for her to give me any degree of pain. My teeth were in fine form and my molars were well and truly filled with the old silver cavities long ago. There wasn’t much to fill in. No root canal that she could recommend and not even a teeny weeny cavity. She would get her revenge on some other day. Tada!
This dentist in any case was a special visit. My elders weren’t and aren’t on the best of terms so we cousins don’t end up meeting too often. My generation couldn’t care less for the property disputes of our elders. But thanks to that we have never been very close. Compund that with the fact that we stay nuclear and os we have even less functions to go to. So basically we are almost cut off from our gene pool. My immediate siblings never understood the fights that our uncles and aunties had and we swore never to let money come in the way ever. Never to let protocol come in the way as well. life is too short to bicker over lesser issues.
So while I was placed in nariman point I used to get to the train everyday and there happily enough I once saw what looked my niece. I wasn’t very sure till she came up and asked me ‘wasn’t I her jaimit kaka’. Err yes. That was fun. Everyday in the morning you get to meet your niece. She is a happy fun person and it was pretty cool talking to her. She was studying to be a dentist. She passed out a few years ago and has started practising in some clinic. So when yesterday I felt a bit of pain in my teeth I used the opportunity to catch up with my favourite niece. Disclaimer – given that I hardly know any of my other nieces, itnot a great achievement. Hah! That was written as while we were talking about the fact that I had my computer open, she figured I blog. I have never tried to popularise my blog. Its been an open but a quite thing. If you know about it then fine. Else even better. So as she said she would one read it, I thought I would be nice and mean to her. I am always mean to her and pulling her leg.
In fact she is 26 and like all happy Indian gujju households, her mom is after her to get married. I don’t understand this marriage scare business. What there to get scared of marriage and commitment? Well its obviously easy for me to say that, as I obviously found someone to get married to. But I got married at 23 and had a child by the time I was 27. It did seem a bit young but I loved it. Today at 35 I have an eight year old. Soon at 40 she should be 13 a mini adult and hopefully I won’t be old and fuddy duddy. I can run with her, play with her and hopefully compete with her. She has already smashed me in swimming. I am waiting to have her taekwondo and squash skills develop so that I can play that as well with her. it would be a bit difficult if I was a bit older.
So our poor dentist niece has a poor role model to look up to. She is not exactly enthused with the prospect of getting married and I keep telling many youths like her that its not that bad. Sometimes all I do is just explain the superficial behaviour they sometimes exhibit. Something like rejecting this guy as she speaks with a local accent or he wears a printed shirt or something. The tables have changed and how... I guess my mom would not have had much say in choosing her husband, but I am happy that we Indians are slowly allowing our daughter to have a greater say. I guess now the pressure is put not physically but emotionally to say yes to a guy of the parents liking. Nice.
So while she explained her exasperation at the various guys she was seeing and choosing from (all crap according to her) , I gently nudged her to a marriage portal. It’s an interesting disintermediation. When these portals made an appearance around a decade ago I thought they would be all sleaze and the last resort for old unmarried / divorced men and women. I started looking at it with a little more respect when I heard that one of my friends met his wife through this portal. Interesting. You see profiles, you approach, you chat a bit, you become facebook friends and then you meet up and figure. Cool nah. Its a bit like dating. And the parents are now open to this new concept as well. I met one lady who I interviewed some time ago. She said she is a maharashtrian who family was after her to get married. So she went online and registered herself and met this guy who was a gujarati. Then she set it up herself and met the guys and decided to get married. All this I came to know when I asked her if her marriage was love or arranged. And she said sort of love. If you see the story I kind of agree with her. is that within the definition of love marriage or arranged marriage. A new term needs to be invented for this stuff – loranged. That sounds a bit like deranged? How about Arrove. Ya... you arrange the match and then you love and then you marry.
Like I was telling my niece – go on and register yourself. See some male profiles, check them out. a bit like ‘body shopping’. In the traditional sphere the women used to feel like they are on display with the men coming in to meet and ‘grade’ them. Now the game is more equal I guess. Men and women have equal body shopping rights! Yay yay!
These are small steps to a new world. That’s why I have so much faith in the Indian dream playing out. Women – we haven’t factored the rise of the women in this economic dream. Their rise gives me great confidence.
So in the end my niece was disappointed. I had no reason for her to give me any degree of pain. My teeth were in fine form and my molars were well and truly filled with the old silver cavities long ago. There wasn’t much to fill in. No root canal that she could recommend and not even a teeny weeny cavity. She would get her revenge on some other day. Tada!
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