gaelikaa's diary

REVIEW - BUSINESS SUTRA by Devdutt Pattanaik

2013-05-06T19:52:00.000+05:30

A few months ago, I ran into a slight problem. I had a bit of a misunderstanding with Mrs. Asha Singh (not her real name), a neighbourhood friend of mine, someone I've known since I arrived in India about two decades ago. We'd gone for a bit of shopping. Mrs. Asha Singh, I'd come to understand, had been collecting discount coupons for a very large chain store. Her husband would go there, buy the monthly provisions and pay for them and he would hand Mrs. Asha Singh these discount coupons every time he returned with the shopping. She would save up these coupons with the hope of buying something nice for herself. However, the discount coupons scheme was about to come to an end in favour of a card/point system. So Mrs. Asha Singh was anxious to encash these coupons in order to get their full value. That, however, proved to be easier said than done.

For starters, she wouldn't go to the local branch of that chain but insisted on going to the city centre branch of it, which was, to say the least, very inconvenient. The Indian traffic on a hot day is nothing less than a nightmare. I wondered why she was doing this. I soon found out. The city centre branch had a jeweller's shop on it's premises. Mrs. Asha Singh entered the shop, produced her coupons on the counter and insisted on redeeming their value in gold jewellery items. Not surprisingly, she was immediately dismissed. This shop was not a part of the chain store, it simply rented a premises there and was therefore not a part of its schemes. Mrs. Asha Singh had thousands of rupees worth of these coupons. Moreover, as I tried to explain to her, the coupons were not money. They were simply pieces of paper which, under certain circumstances, could be exchanged in order to benefit the user with discounts on certain items. None of these items would be anything like gold jewellery, they would be consumer goods like clothing or electrical items. I tried to explain to her that no item could be purchased completely by coupons, actual money had to pay a role in each and every purchase. As we shopped around a bit, Asha soon got the hang of using the coupons and even purchased some bowls and dishes. But obviously, it was nothing like the shopping she'd originally envisaged. I purchased some items too, an electric kettle and some clothing items and was pleasantly surprised when Asha insisted that I use the coupons to avail of discounts. I made a saving of six hundred rupees that day, which was great. Of course, I made sure to thank Asha for her kindness and also made a point of paying her fare home in the rickshaw and the buses we travelled in. I also paid for what she ate and drank when we stopped somewhere for tea and snacks.

So it came as a bit of a surprise to me when my daughter handed me a handwritten bill from Mrs. Asha Singh a few months later. As neither my Hindi nor Mrs. Asha Singh's English is very good, the lady had resorted to communicating her message through my daughter. It turned out that, knowing I'd made a saving of Rs.600/- with her coupons, Mrs. Asha Singh was insisting on my paying half my discount back to her in the form of cash. And very indignant she was too, about my being slow to repay 'her' money.Naturally, I was shocked. I had paid her back, I thought. Hadn't I picked up the responsibility for our fares and refreshments that day? Moreover, coupons are pieces of paper which, under certain conditions, can be redeemed for discounts. They're not actual cash. Besides, the coupons had been about to expire. I've shared coupons of my own with friends many times and was only too glad to help them out. I certainly didn't see myself as having given away cash.

None of this reasoning cut any ice with Mrs. Asha Singh. Nope! She wanted her money back. All Rs.300 of it, exactly half of the discount I'd received. When I pointed out to her that I'd incurred about Rs.100 expense on her fares and refreshments, she cut the 'bill' by Rs.100, but dug her heels in, threatening to 'complain' to my mother-in-law and husband if I didn't repay 'her' money. That did it. I dug Rs.200/- out of my purse, sent it via my daughter's hand and my friendship with Mrs. Asha Singh is now reduced to nothing more than a cold nod by the garden gate. BTW, my husband and mother-in-law, both Indians, had a hearty laugh about this later on. I told them about it. Don't mind that foolish woman, the mother-in-law told me, she and her people are just greedy for money. My husband pointed out that Mrs. Asha Singh, although the same age as myself (fiftyish!), had been married at a mere sixteen years and while she was now a mother, a mother-in-law and a grandmother, she had very little actual experience of the world of commerce. Well that made sense. My doctor sahib (my husband) is quite a rock of wisdom. Yet I couldn't understand, for the life of me, how Asha could make the mistake of turning the gesture of helping a friend into a business transaction.

I only wish I'd read BUSINESS SUTRA by Devdutt Pattanaik sooner. It might have made things so much clearer for me. I was fortunate enough to get a copy of this most enlightening book recently and it has done a lot to explain to me why the 'Western' (i.e. USA and western European) approach towards business transactions is so very different from the subcontinental (or Indian) approach.

Wasn't it Kipling, the wise old man, gave us that awful adage that east is east and west is west and 'ne'er the twain shall meet'? He was a bit of a pessimist, if you ask me. If only he'd dug a little deeper, he might have understood that the very different approach Indians have to business, among other things, is because of their very mindset, which is part of the cultural baggage they have inherited. For people of Western origin, it's the same. We're all only human and the twain have been meeting forever (doing business together, getting married, producing children and doing any number of things) but in order for the encounter to go smoothly, understanding, awareness and insight are required - these things are so essential.

Devdutt Pattanaik, is a terrific teacher and storyteller. Using clear language, simple illustrations and apt examples, he shows us how the Indian approach to business can be interpreted from an attitude which is rooted deeply in the psyche and can be interpreted using clues from the rich treasure house of Indian mythology. He rightly points out that western approach is rooted in Biblical (to some extent) thinking or rather a form of it, on one hand and by classical Greek thinking on the other. The Biblical approach glorifying, but eclipsed by Greek thought which glorifying man. He shows us how the Western approach is always concerned with 'what'. The Indian approach, rooted as it is in it's mythology, is more concened with 'why', while the Chinese approach, rooted in its own peculiar mosaic of philosophies, is supremely concerned wth 'how'? Basically, Devdutt had decoded mysteries that it could have taken many a scholar a lifetime to unravel.

I'd been offended at the thought that Mrs. Asha Singh was treating me as a mobile cash dispenser. But I now realize that that wan't the case. Heck she was putting me at the level of a goddess. Devdutt Pattanaik explains clearly in the book how ubcontinental people approach an investment or business transaction as they would a religious ceremony. The investor (yajaman!) gives an offering (svaha) which they hope the 'devata' (god) will accept and return in the form of a gift (taathastu). In this case, Mrs. Asha Singh was the devotee, I was the goddess, her 'svaha' was the discount coupons and no wonder she was displeased when her taathastu was not only delayed, but reduced as well!

I'd originally thought we were two friends supporting each other but that the whole exchange had turned sour because of Mrs. Asha Singh's greed. I had no idea that the whole situation was imbued with spiritual significance. Oh, I'll smile more warmly at Mrs. Asha Singh next time I see her. But no way am I taking it for granted that her approach to variou interactions should be to mine in future. The differences, of course, being rooted in our cultural backgrounds.

BUSINESS SUTRA is an ideal read for any Indian person who has studied management science, of which a western model is prevalently taught They will discoer how belief influences behaviour and therefore, business. This will help to give them the Indian approach to management and business and give them a more balanced east/west view. It would also be a terrific addition to the library of any business person of western origin who has regular business with Indians or businesses based in India. Even for readers who just enjoy studying the significance of mythology and who are particularly interested in studying the effect mythology has on the lives of people - this book has something for them too.

If it comes out in Hindi (I'm not sure if it has yet) I might consider purchasing a copy of this book and giving it as a gift to Mrs. Asha Singh? But will she 'get' what I'm trying to convey? Well, to answer it in a typical Indian style, 'that depends".

I can live with that.

This review is a part of the biggest http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank"> Book Review Program

for http://www.blogadda.com" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Review - THE SECRET GOSPEL OF IRELAND by James Behan and Leo Behan

2013-04-25T19:05:00.001+05:30

One of the things which some people here in India love to tell me is that: 'your Christianity is only two thousand years old, while our Hinduism is over five thousand years old'. As if Hinduism, being more ancient, somehow has more legitimacy than the Christian faith. So the first thing I always say when I hear something like that is that the roots of Christianity reach further back than two thousand years until the beginnings of mankind. The Old Testament which traces the history of mankind's fall and God's gathering of the Children of Israel to be His people goes back into the mists of time and if age validates religion, then the Judaeo-Christian faith would not be found wanting. However, I'm not in competition with anyone to prove 'my' faith is better than theirs. I've heard the message of Jesus Christ and I believe in it. Amen.

The life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ was the culmination of God's promises to his Chosen People throughout Old Testament times. When the Saviour was born and made the ultimate Sacrifice, all the promises of the Old Testament were fulfilled. The first followers of Christ ('Christians' as they became known) were in fact members of the Israelite (Jewish) community. But that community, as a whole, did not accept Jesus as the promised Messiah (Saviour) even though there are Jewish followers of Jesus today, known as Messianic Jews. The early Christians, being Jewish or Greek converts to Judaism, simply explained the Christian message in terms of the Jewish/Israelite vision, that man disobeyed God and fell from grace. God made a Covenant with Israel and promised to send a Saviour. They accepted that message and were absorbed into the early Church, which is the collective term for Christians. Eventually, Christianity spread its influence and after time, became the official religion of the Roman Empire. There were many new followers to the faith but most of these would not understand the Christian message in Jewish terms. As the message of Christ spread, people, through ignorance of the Scriptures, didn't even properly comprehend the faith, nor what it really meant. Christianity became just another religion with rules and regulations. Astonishing, considering the fact that Jesus Christ Himself detested religion with it's trappings of rules, regulations and hypocrisy. The Word of God was falling on thin soil indeed. Not to mention the fact that Eastern Christianity and Western Christianity separated from each other.

This book THE SECRET GOSPEL OF IRELAND, traces the history of the Christian faith from its obscure beginnings. In clear, layman's language, it shows us how an African man named Augustine went from being what Christians would have considered as a sinner to one of the greatest saints of his time. He shows us how Augustinian thought shaped Christian theology. I'm afraid I'm not overly impressed by Augustine nor his mother Monica. My local priest often pointed out my similarity with Monica in the sense that I'm married to a man of another faith and mentioned that thanks to Monica's prayers her husband and son ultimately adopted Christianity. I'm appalled by Monica's handling of Augustine's life. Augustine had a concubine, an African woman who bore him a son. That woman followed him faithfully from Africa to Italy. Yet Monica cruelly dismissed her from Augustine's life. Augustine, who was of quite a mature age, sadly bade his concubine goodbye, keeping their son with him and agreed to marry a young girl his mother had chosen, who was yet not old enough to marry. I find St. Monica's behaviour most inhuman and unChristian. Ultimately, Augutine didn't marry the young lady, choosing to become a priest instead. As the body of theological knowledge grew, the Christian faith spread to beyond the borders of the Roman Empire. That's where Ireland comes in.

When St. Patrick brought Christianity to the remote island of Ireland, Ireland adopted a great monastic tradition, which had actually spread that far from the Egyptian desert. The Irish monasteries were universities of knowledge and the Irish took to Christianity and learning like ducks take to water. Ireland's location on the remote outskirts of Europe may have cut it off from mainland Europe, but their Christianity, their knowledge of Augustine's theology and their Latin was infinitely superior even to that of Rome. In time Irish missionaries were going out to Europe, spreading Christianity throughout the continent. Apparently, one of the great contributions of Irih monks to Christianity was their emphasis on penance and good works to bring one closer to God. The Irish stood out among European Christians because their tonsure was distinctive and different. Also, they celebrated Easter at different times, which was later brought into line with that of the Roman Church.

This book is basically a short history of Christianity, from its inception to the present day, with special emphasis on the role the Irish monks played in the Church as a whole. The language is accessible and iteh book reads like a rather interesting article - you don't feel you're reading a book at all. One of the things I found slightly irritating was that it kept on referring to the Church in pre-Reformation days as 'the Roman Catholic Church', which it wasn't, well not yet anyway. It tells us of St. Thomas Aquinas and Erasmus and their role in shaping Catholic thought. It gives a clear account of how Martin Luther began a crusade against the abuses of the system of selling indulgences and ended up leading the Reformation in western Christianity. This story doesn't have a lot to do with Ireland, but it makes enjoyable reading. Ireland has always had a symbiotic relationship with the Romanc Catholic Church, a relationship which has, incidentally, shaped our national identity in many ways, although that statement may not please the minority community of Irish Protestants. Ireland is currently trying to escape it's Catholic identity, it seems. The words 'Ireland is a Catholic country' resounded around the world recently and almost convicted us of bigotry and racial discrimination, even though the words were a well meant way to describe why Ireland in general has always followed the pro-life ethos.

People interested in Irish history, lay people and students alike, as well as people interested in reading about Church history, would find this book fascinating. As the authors declare in their summing up:

It started as a vision of heaven, infinite and eternal, in the mind of an African bishop who didn't know peace until he rested in God. Soon, however, the Word became flesh as the monks of Ireland endeavored to imitate Christ in body and mind. They built monasteries and schools and hospitals. They cared for the sick, comforted the poor, and educated countless generations. They did penance and followed Christ from earth to heaven, bringing forth an esthetic transformation of the Western mind that changed the world. They built a civilization like the sculptor who toils in silence to give voice to a stone. We wear their legacy like a halo. And even if many people today don't believe in God or Jesus Christ, we are free because they did.

Somewhere the Irish monks are smiling.

Indian Fiction - Tantra by Adi

2013-04-08T19:09:00.003+05:30

This is by far the darkest piece of Indian fiction I've picked up for a while. A paranormal thriller with thrills and chills galore, it has that peculiarly Indian feel to it. The author doesn't seem to want to come out publicly, simply going by the nickname 'Adi', obviously the short for 'Aditya', an everyday Indian name.

Anu, the main characater, is a young woman who can look after herself. Recently arrived in Delhi from New York, she's no sheltered Indian princess. She's walked on the wild side since she was young, having the unique gifts and training which make her a vampire hunter. She stalks the night in black leather with an impressive array of weapons hidden about her person, not to mention the ability to shift and give chase across rooftops in the dead of the night.

But now, the East/West culture shock kicks in. Her aunt insists she do the 'dekhan dekhai' custom like a good Indian girl and meet eligible young men from 'good' families (whatever 'good' means), with a view to settling down. The heat is too much. She's forced to ditch the black leather in favour of black kurta pyjamas. What's even stranger, is the fact that in India, the lines between good and bad are blurred. Back in New York, the vampires were the bad guys and always the target. In India, things are slightly different. The vampire hunters and vampires are inclined to do deals here, being very often on the same side. I'm not sure if that's so strange. As a reader who occasionally reads paranormal, I'm familiar with the tortured vampire hero who isn't bad at heart but who tries to keep his need to feed limited to preying on the scum of the earth, the wicked, underworld members of society who prey on innocents. But for Anu, it's something of a culture shock.

The common enemy of the vampire hunters and vampires is a seemingly innocuous guru, Baba Senaka, who runs an ashram in Delhi and who is a brand in himself.. Anu senses the evil atmosphere emanating from the Baba's ashram. While investigating a spate of kidnapped and murdered children, all clues lead the Baba. Is the revered guru is actually a practising tantrik underneath, someone who use the black arts for his own aggrandisement? Anu goes into training under the watchful eye of a couple of experts, learning sattvic mantras and exercises to counteract the evil influence of the Baba as vampires and hunters alike gather for the final showdown just before the Holi festival, when pure psychic power permeates the atmosphere.

There are enigmatic characters aplenty. Anu, one senses, is one step away from turning rogue. Although she's clearly on the side of the good and the innocent, she has scores to settle. Her lover in New York was murdered and as she was able to trace his killer back to Delhi, this is what motivated her to return to her place of origin. The powers who control the vampire hunters would clearly not approve of her using her skills for revenge so she keeps quiet. There's Amit, the Indian vampire hunter who is fully aware that the dangerous nature of his work means that he will never live out his lifespan. There's Chandra, the charismatic commander of the vampires who has lived longer than any of them. Pandit Grover, Dr. Sharma and the enigmatic Karta, powerful, psychic characters who inspire and encourage Anu as she readies herself for the confrontation with the naked power of evil.

What does it mean when all the questions are not answered at the end of a story? It means you have to wait for the second part. So that's what I'm doing now. I'm waiting for Part II of this dark and fascinating tale. I want to know who killed Anu's lover. Will Anu become Chandra's lady or will she get with Gaurav, a young man who attracted her since she arrived in Delhi?

I shall never think of Delhi in quite the same way again. City of tombs? Indeed!

This review is a part of the biggest http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank"> Book Review Program

for http://www.blogadda.com" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Soldiers for Women

2013-04-01T12:57:00.002+05:30

As a foreign woman living in India, I'm very much aware of the negative publicity India has received with regard to the area of the position of women in society and the security of women in this country. The truly horrible story of a young woman literally gang raped to death while out for an evening with her boyfriend has resonated with right thinking women everywhere. The 'honor killings' where young women have been brutally done to death to save their family's honor have horrified the world and don't get me started on female foeticide......

The truth is, it's impossible to generalize about a whole society because of certain, negative news reports. Even though there have been horrific crimes against women in India's recent past, I know for a fact, having lived here for eighteen years, that India is not necessarily a nation where women are under constant threat of misogynistic crimes and hatred. There are many Indian men who stand up for women all the time - in their daily lives, in small ways and in big ways.

For an example of a man who stands up for women and values them, I need look no further than my own husband, Dr. Mukesh. Mukesh, although married to an English speaking woman (me), didn't start studying English himself until he was twelve years old. He's as genuinely Indian as can be, educated through Hindi. He certainly didn't end up with me because of Anglophile tendencies and was not looking for a passport to living in the west when we decided to get married. I had to come to India to be with him. He's a biochemistry professor and has guided many students, both male and female, in postgraduate studies. He encourages all his students, regardless of gender, to make the most of whatever educational facilities are available and to use their education for the betterment of themselves and for society. Having a long track record of teaching at university level, some of his former students have done extremely well career wise. Yet one of the former students of which he's most proud is Anjali, a postgraduate who works in the outreach section of a government research agency. Anjali's job is to communicate with women at village level and teach them how to use kitchen gardens to grow useful herbs and plants which are an asset to their lives, both from a financial and a therapeutic point of view.

One of the things I value most about Mukesh is the fact that like me, his wish for our daughters is not to 'marry them off' with a bundle of 'dahej' (dowry), but rather to make them responsible, educated women who will have the ability to earn their own income and take decisions for themselves. Including the decision about whether or not to marry.

Another example of a man who is a true 'soldier for women' is my brother-in -law, Rajeev Mohan. Rajeev works with an NGO (non-government organization) which is dedicated to the betterment of women, the NARI SEVA SAMITI. Founded in the last century by Padmashri Mona Chandravati Gupta, this Lucknow based organization works in the area of education and empowerment. They run an institution which provides education to girls from nursery to post graduate level and also provides vocational skills. The organization also provides free legal aid and family counselling to women in distressing family situations. Working in the area Family Counselling, Rajeev had handled many cases throughout the years. Many women and families have benefited from the support provided by this organization. Although the media is very quick to highlight negative reports about the position of women in society, it's important to emphasize the very worthwhile work done in by various organizations and the individuals who work in them. Individuals like Rajeev who have put their whole professional lives into taking care of the problems of others have given an invaluable contribution to society.

One of the reasons women suffer so much in society, not only in Indian society but everywhere in the world, is that their contribution to family life is very often taken for granted and not even valued very highly. In the marriage commitment, two people agree to live together in a bond which literally dedicates them to each other's welfare. Yet while the woman is automatically expected to sacrifice everything for the welfare of her husband and his family, the man is not necessarily expected to do the same. Yet here in India, I know a man who literally sacrificed his high flying career for the welfare of his wife. I'm talking about my rakhi (adopted) brother, Ramana, the blogger from Pune. Two decades ago, Ramana's late wife suffered a stroke which left her in need of full time care. Ramana, instead of hiring a nurse to care for her and carrying on with his career as a management professional, took early retirement and cared for her full-time for the rest of her life. He was just a little over fifty at the time and certainly very young to retire. Yet the time he spent caring for his wife and being with her is a time he wouldn't have missed for anything. And he never brags about it either. I'm doing that for him. Ramana is a follower of the vedas (hinduism), but as a Christian, I see his example as living out the Biblical injunction to husbands to care for their wives and go all out for their welfare. While everyone seems to know heroic women who have made sacrifices for marriage and family, I'm proud to know a man who has done exactly the same.

I'm sure there must be more men like Mukesh, Rajeev and Ramana in Indian society. But these are the ones I know. That's why I'm sharing this post.

This post is a part of #Soldierforwomen in association with BlogAdda.com

Review – CHILLI, CHICKS & HEART ATTACKS (The Misadventure of an intern by Dr. Manjula Mendis) by Sanjaya Senanayake

2013-03-23T19:59:00.001+05:30

This novel is the story of a non-resident Sri Lankan doctor, in his first year on the job in an Australian hospital., fresh from his graduation from medical studies. Sri Lankan by ethnicity and culture, Manjula has lived and been educated in Australia, and although Australia may be ‘down under’ in geographical terms, it’s pretty much a prosperous ‘western style’ nation to all intents and purposes. So this is the classic ‘east meets west’ tale in a slightly different setting.

Manjula is not completely eastern. He’s sensitive enough to know that his roots are Sri Lankan, but at the same time, he’s not blind to the nuts and bolts of modern, urban living. He speaks with particular insight about the dilemma faced by the children of Asian immigrants, coming to terms with life in the ‘new world environment’ (for want of a better term) as well as trying to live up to the expectations of Asian parents. He blends in well with his fellow interns, who are a bunch of people of varied ethnic backgrounds. The novel covers that year of internship and charts the joys and sorrows of the interns, Manju in particular.

There’s a ‘good versus evil’ pattern story, with the somewhat naïve interns growing up fast as they find themselves pitted against the big, bad, corrupt specialists, who are on the make and trying to get as much kudos and money as possible, walking over patients and interns included in order to achieve their aims.

Some of the characters are named with comic aptness. We have the television presenter Fabulus Hipz, longing to be taken seriously as a journalist rather than as an attractive television presenter, who stalks St. Ivanhoe’s Hospital for a scent of a scandal. There’s the misogynist homophobe, Professor Monty Bonkzalot (I’ll bet he does) and the sympathetic Dr. Precious Thyme. But the real humour reveals itself in a series of hilarious stories about life on the wards, most of which involve our intrepid hero, Dr. Manjula Mendis. Take the time Manju takes sleeping medication to knock himself out after a night shift and accidentally takes some ‘happy pills’, waking up early in what could be described as ‘one hell of a pre-dick-ament’. I’m not going to reveal what it is, you’ll have to read the book to find out.

Manju comes across as a lovable if sometimes overly smart fellow. The kind who everyone thinks is very simple but who is extremely insightful underneath. His concern for the culturally misplaced intern Lucky King, who disowns her Indian heritage warms the heart, as does his friendship with the lesbian intern with schizophrenic dress sense, Dr. Alternaria Molde. It’s Alternaria’s wisdom which helps Manjula make up his mind about his love for Sundari, a Sri Lankan girl whose background is not good enough for his snobbish mother.

This heartwarming, hilarious and sometimes outrageously farcical story has found its way on to my keeper shelf and it shall stay there forever. Get a copy and read it for yourself. Actually, Manjula’s humour reminds me that laughter really is the best medicine. I think he would agree.

This review is a part of the biggest http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank"> Book Review Program

for http://www.blogadda.com" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Nature Vs. Nurture - LBC Post

2013-02-08T22:28:00.001+05:30

My eldest son, whom I refer to as 'Neill' for the purposes of blogging, was a little concerned one day. He told me in all seriousness that in his adult life, he'd have to leave India and go and live in Ireland. Without wishing to pry, but madly curious all the same, I feigned a slight disinterest and asked him why.

"I have to take care of my Naani," came the reply. "Naani" refers to the grandmother who happens to be your mother's mother. The similar sounding word 'nanny' is often used to refer to the grandmother in Ireland. There "nanny" can be either of the two grandmothers. I asked Neill why was he anxious about my mother.

"She's getting older," he explained. "She has no son. I'm her eldest grandson. It's my duty to take care of her."

I asked him what about his father's mother and he replied that as she has three sons and six grandsons, she will always have someone to look out for her. But his Naani only has him and as her other, younger grandson lives in London, he felt that his Naani was his responsibility.

This is one of the thing that I love about my son. He was born in India, but raised by Irish me and my Indian husband, Yash. He seems to be a fair mixture of both cultures. I'd like to think he's absorbed the best of both.

My two daughters were up in Delhi this week at a wedding. I was unable to attend that wedding as someone had to stay home. My mother in law had asked my husband to stay at home as the house should not be empty and as a show of marital solidarity, I decided to stay at home with him. Neill was busy with this studies and I kept the youngest son at home as I was unable to go over to Delhi and deep a watchful eye on him. So I sent my daughters to Delhi under the care of my mother in law.

The bride at this wedding, Suneha, is the first of all my mother in law's grandchildren to get married. She is the daughter of the elder of my husband's too sisters, so you can say that it's the first wedding in the family, especially for my children. My daughters got the opportunity to participate in all the ceremonies and one of those ceremonies was the 'mehendi ceremony'. This is when the bride and her female relatives have henna patterns drawn on their hands and feet. As the younger sisters of the bride, my daughters were naturally expected to participate.

However, in my daughters' convent school, there is a rule that students must not come to school with mehendi patterns on their hands. Feet are okay because when one is wearing shoes and socks, one could be wearing red nail polish on one's toes and it wouldn't matter. But girls who come to school with the patterns on their hands can be suspended as long as the designs last, which could be as much as two weeks.

Had I been there, I'd have certainly prevented the girls from participating in the mehendi ceremony because of the school rule. However, the girls were in the care of their grandmother and she was unaware this. When my daughter Mel explained that the mehendi patterns could only be worn to school for the marriage of a real sister, my mother in law simply replied "yes, she is your sister". In India, cousins are considered as brothers and sisters.

So I shall have to make a visit to the principal of my daughters' school and explain the situation. I just hope she'll be understanding. Because of their Christian background (i.e. me) my girls are generally treated as Christians at school and as the mehendi ceremony is not practised by Christians - well, not widely, anyway, my girls need not expect leniency.

However, my point is, point is, my children are a mixture of east and west. Of Hindu and Christian, at least for social and family purposes. It could be nature or it could be nurture. Or it could be both. They are neither completely Irish nor completely Indian. As I said earlier, I hope they have got the best of both worlds.

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. This topic 'Nature Vs. Nurture' has been given by Shackman.

Half Full Glass

2013-02-01T21:09:00.001+05:30

My daughter Trisha was worried.

It was the anniversary of the birth of the foundress of the religious order which runs her convent school.

She had to make up a poem in honour of the lady.

I suggested a nice limerick.

A woman named Mary Ward,
Feeling incredibly bored
Joined the nuns, built some schools,
Set some trends, broke some rules
And heaven became her reward.

My daughter was not too happy. Unimpressed would be the word.

So I suggested a sonnet instead. Shakespearean, actually. Here it is:

Mary Ward you ever shall inspire us
To always try to do our very best,
The do the thing that God would find desirous
To labour and to never look for rest
The story of your life shines through the ages
Through centuries your influence still reaches
Your biography in our school diary pages
Lights our minds and continues to teach us
Your vision of the future role of women
Was indeed prophetic, we agree
You could see there were great changes comiing
Now your vision everyone can see
Educated women shape the world
More so since Loreto's flag unfurled.

Is it Shakespearean or Petrarchan? Shakespearean I think. It took me ten minutes to dream this up (the limerick took longer than that actually).

Mary Ward was the founder of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a Catholic community of religious sisters whose mission is the education and betterment of women and to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ. She was undoubtedly ahead of her time in many of her ideas. There were quite a few inspired women like her in different parts of the Christian world. Mary Ward lived as a Catholic at a time when being a Catholic was rather dangerous in England. Allegiance to the Pope for spiritual reasons was considered treason to the English monarch. Mary Ward was a loyal daughter of the Catholic Church, but she suffered a lot owing to the harsh restrictions imposed on women at that time. Many of those restrictions imposed by the very Church she had dedicated her live to serving. Her example is very inspiring in many ways.

So my daughter took the sonnet to school. And what happened?

Nothing, that's what! Nobody liked the poem it seemed. Well I liked it and I'm publishing it here on my blog for all the world to see.

We should have a positive attitude to everything.

May your glass always be half full, or even completely full, preferably of something nice!

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. This topic has been given by Padmini.

Self Improvement

2013-01-25T19:57:00.001+05:30

Yesterday, I was unwell. I had a headache and I just rested for the day. I slept while the kids were at school. I ordered pizza delivery and generally just lazed about. But I didn't enjoy it, I felt awful. I felt so helpless.

I know what I have to do. Drink plenty of water. Take my medicines on time. Make sure to get to bed on time and make sure I get my eight hours of sleep.

I love my sleep, but the trouble is, I never really want to sleep in case I miss something.

As soon as the kids are asleep at night (well, the younger ones obviously) I have a hundred and one things I want to do. But that's not really good for me so I've got to try and have a more level headed approach to life.

There's a family wedding to attend in Delhi the first week in February too. I have to go shopping and I'm dreading it. Shopping in India is both an art and a science. I don't know if I'll ever be up to it.

But this weekend is a holiday weekend in India. The 26th January is Republic Day. That's the the modern nation of India got it's Constituiton. So I'll relax and enjoy the holiday and plan my next move.

Self improvement? Could always try some yoga asanas I suppose. My late father in law swore by them.

Happy Republic Day to all my Indian friends. And happy Australia day to my Australian friends. Both on 26th January.

I love this photo which I put up on my Facebook page in the last fortnight. I clicked it from my cameraphone. The roses are still blooming in our garden with their rich perfume, even in the midst of a cold snap. Indian roses are so beautiful, you feel happy just looking at them.

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. The topic 'Self Improvement ' was given by Ramana the Rummuser, and is just about typical. I'm sure he has some wonderfully erudite post on this very topic in which he imparts pearls of wisdom to his followers. I am sure he dreams of setting up an ashram where he can coax thousands of beautiful, rich women to part with thousands of dollars in aid of his yet to be set up charitable trust which can easily be diverted into his .......oh, don't mind me, I'm just joking.....LOL.

Good Intentions

2013-01-19T12:52:00.000+05:30

I had great intentions for this week. I'd write a thousand words every day, review six books, get my Loose Bloggers Consortium (LBC) post up well in advance. And did I? No, no, no. I wrote about two hundred words per day and have been trying to read and review two books and still not finished reading. My target of 19,000 words until today by now is around 15,000 on my 100kWords in 100 Days Challenge. It seems I'm just not cutting the mustard.

I have the intentions. I just don't seem to have the mojo to carry out the things I want to do. So many intentions, not enough time. I've not been sleeping well lately. Probably very tired.

So - my intention now is to try to get more sleep. Then carry out the original intentions.That' what I intend to do. As of now. Meanwhile, my post is up one day late.

I had to go out to the bank this morning to get some pending work finished. I clicked the above picture en route. It seems that after a three week winter, we're getting the sun back again.

That is good news....I feel for my friends and family in the UK and Ireland who are coping with adverse weather conditions.

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. The topic 'My Dreams And How I've Fulfilled Them' was given by Maria the Silver Fox.

My Dreams And How I've Fuliflled Them - LBC Post

2013-01-11T03:25:00.000+05:30

When I was a kid at school, it was very usual to be asked “what would you like to be when you grow up?” The answer was always one of several things. Sometimes I wanted to be a teacher. That was a fairly normal ambition for a kid in school. I saw teachers every day at school and the teaching profession was one I was in touch with, by virtue of the fact that I went to school. Other times, I’d say I wanted to be a writer. Of course I didn’t become either of those things. Not initially, anyway. There was one journalism course that I picked up leaflets for, but there was only twenty places available on it and apparently hundreds of applicants. For an applicant with less confidence, there was no chance of admission. Not at that stage. Becoming a teacher meant going to university and financially it just wasn’t possible for me at that time.

So I did this extremely dull, monotonous, repetitive course in shorthand and typing and ended up becoming a receptionist. I was one of the slowest students in my class and the last one to achieve working speeds. Strangely enough, when I applied for a job as a shorthand typist at the Embassy of India in Dublin three years after leaving secretarial school, I had no problem getting the job because I was one of the few applicants who actually knew shorthand. The Ambassador really wanted a typist who knew shorthand. That was because I used to practice it an odd time. Really. Some of my friends at secretarial school reached shorthand speeds of 120 words per minute, but a few years later, they couldn’t remember a word of shorthand. They told me so.

Strangely enough, learning touch typing was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I would never have picked up typing speed by myself. I was very slow to pick up the typing speed and took probably twice as long as anyone else in my batch, but that’s why it was so important for me to learn it. Yes. In a school. With, would you believe it, manual typewriters? I feel really lucky that I learned touch typing that way. It was great discipline. I’m very fast now and I am sure I’m as good as any of those typing champions in my class back then.

Strangely enough, I did become a teacher. For a while. When my youngest child joined the nursery school, the principal asked me to join too. She felt I’d be an asset to the school because I’m a native English speaker. Well, she was partly right, I suppose. It’s such a pity that the other teachers didn’t agree with her. They thought I was an upstart, thinking I was better than them. No way were they going to let this foreigner tell them how to improve their pronunciation. One day I overheard the teacher in the next classroom telling her students about how Goldilocks went into the three bears’ cottage and found three ‘bowels’ of porridge. I nearly choked with laughter. I tried to tell that teacher later (as tactfully as possible of course) that it was bowls, not ‘bowels’ of porridge. She smiled and said nothing. The next day I heard her telling the same story loud and clear to her class. And yes, it was still three ‘bowels’ of porridge. I never offered any pronunciation advice again.

Ultimately, I had to leave teaching because it wasn’t very satisfying. My interaction with little ones is not so good. I’m fine with my own kids, but I would have preferred to interact with older children if I was to continue teaching.

As for becoming a writer, the internet couldn’t have come along at a better time. Nowadays, I write blog posts and interview authors. I’m a consultant editor and I write pieces for magazines, fiction and non-fiction. Sometimes I even get published in print and get paid for it too. I also review books and I get terrific payment. Free books, what more could I want? I also write novels, but I have a long way to go before I produce anything fit to publish in that area. Sometimes I dream up plots and play around with them for a while. It’s fun.

Another dream of mine was to (yes, very boring) get married and have kids. That took ages too, because I went and found myself a man of a different culture and religion and there were lots of factors to consider which all took time. but I got what I wanted in the end.

I suppose the truth is that even if your dreams don’t come true initially, it doesn’t mean that they won’t eventually. The main thing is not to give in to disappointment too easily. Because you never know what’s around the corner as you go through life.

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. The topic 'My Dreams And How I've Fulfilled Them' was given by Maria the Silver Fox.

Indian Fiction - Pink or Black 2 by Tishaa

2013-01-05T17:36:00.001+05:30

I got a chance to review this book and honestly, what an experience! Author Tishaa had her first book 'Pink or Black' published when she was just sixteen, about teen heroine Tiana and her exploits. And now she's back with more of the same. 'Pink or Black 2' is a slickly written novel, thirty six short chapters about a young girl/woman who is trying to do the right thing, but who has many problems to encounter. Teenage parties and keeping a responsible eye on her friends who are being lured by drink and the delights of illicit fumblings when the parents/teachers are off the scene.

I am the wrongest person to review this book. Or maybe not. I am a parent. Of teenagers. An Irish born Indian parent. Oh heavens above, this is not the India I know. I wouldn't dream of leaving my house under the control of a bunch of partying teenagers. I wouldn't be that crazy. I'd have to be on hand to see to everything.

Poor Tiana has a double weight of responsibility. Being the 'sensible' one, she's expected to keep an eye on her immature friends as they party with abandon, succumbing to the risks of too much to drink and the chance of illicit groping (and parents, we all know where that ends up!!!). Then when the party gets out of control the parents are disappointed in Tiana and her friends are annoyed with her for not 'stopping us on time' or some other such mad reason. What a bunch of wimps! With friends like that, you have a problem.

For my money, Tiana is a nice girl. But she needs new friends. Preferably as soon as possible.

I experienced a little nostalgia about teen 'dating' when I read this. Not that I ever actually 'dated' when I was a teen. Dating when you're a teen in Tiana's circle means you agree with a boy that you'll 'be his girlfriend.' Whatever that means.It doesn't seem to mean that much. But it does seem to mean you can't flirt or dance with another boy. While you're the boyfriend's territory, so to speak. If your boyfriend decides to 'break up' with you because he wants to concentrate on his studies, you have to be cool and not throw a tantrum. But if you don't throw a tantrum he may think you don't 'love' him 'cos you don't want to 'fight for the relationship.' Oh, yeah? Then if you ex ever so much as hears that you liked another boy while you two were still dating, boy are you in trouble. He'll start hating you. And turn the gang against you. Why? Because you cheated on him last year. Even if you didn't. Then you follow each other around your co-ed school saying things to each other like 'we have to have a serious talk. We have some issues to discuss...'

If that's teenage dating, I'm glad I opted out. What a freaking waste of time. Somehow, I think that this story has been toned down somewhat. Parents, read this book and get some idea what may be possibly going on (or not) in your young'un's life.

The book is well written and flows nicely. I did enjoy reading it even if the subject matter wasn't my usual reading fare. Well, I am a parent, not a YA.

Incidentally, as the book reaches it's zenith, a terrible twist comes in. Tiana's grace and dignity in coping with an absolutely unjust and dreadful experience really impressed me. I realised that I had engaged with the character, when I found myself cheering for her as she turned the problem on it head.

As for my kids, they'd better concentrate on their studies. Or else!

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Relaxation - LBC Post

2013-01-04T23:27:00.000+05:30

There's no doubt about it. I'm very relaxed today, especially in relation to my LBC (Loose Bloggers Consortium) post. Yes, I'm very late.

We're having a cold snap in India at the moment and one of my children is sick. I'm also trying to keep up to a challenge of writing 1000 words per day. I've not been able to keep up with the challenge either.

I'll finish this extremely short post with the description of what it takes to make me truly relax.

Okay, what really relaxes me is a very hot bath. It's so luxurious and puts me in a very good mood. If I can't have that, the next best thing is being in a warm bed, all my kids asleep, with lots of tea available and plenty of books (and the Kindle) to read.

It really doesn't get any better than that!

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. The topic 'Relaxation' was given by Delores aka blogger 'Delirious'

Touched and Travelling Alone - LBC Post

2012-12-28T19:42:00.000+05:30

Last week, I didn't do my usual LBC (Loose Blogging Consortium) post. That day I blogged for a competition to win an iPad. It was supposed to be a post to make me persuade my husband to shave more, sponsored by a razor blade company. However, as I'm not greatly into making my husband shave, I guess my efforts went to waste.

Another reason why I chose to blog other than my usual LBC post was really because I couldn't get any inspiration from the post title either. "Touched". I looked at it again and again. Positively (or rather negatively) zero inspiration.

I got my inspiration over the Christmas however. That's why I'm blogging on the double this week - two topics, 'Touched' and 'Travelling Alone'.

One of Ireland's favourite Christmas songs is "The Fairytale of New York" by the irreverent Pogues. Sung by Shane McGowan and the Pogues, accompanied by Kirsty MacColl, it's actually about a fight between an Irish immigrant couple in New York who have fallen on hard times. Drunken fights and broken dreams are part of the Irish nightmare and I don't know why, but this song struck a chord with many, myself included and has been the cause of many a tear shed around Christmas. I visited a couple of blog by Irish expats over the Christmas, and sure enough, there it was, the 'Fairytale' with its usual dose of nostalgia. Curious, I followed a couple of links and got the shock of my life.

I was taken aback to learn that Kirsty MacColl, who sang the female role in the duet, died tragically in 2000. She was only 43 and her death was an accident. In fact she died saving her son's life, if the report I read is true. I felt so sad. I never knew, as I was busy with my babies in those days and not taking notice of international news.

She was a lovely singer and I always liked listening to her. Her songs were always unusual and thought provoking. I don't think she ever became as famous as she should have been, but I'm sure she'll never be forgotten. Especially at Christmas when there are Irish people listening to the song she made famous along with Shane McGowan.

As for travelling alone - well I was twenty six when I first travelled alone to India to see the man I would eventually marry. I was scared. I knew no one in India and I hadn't heard from him in months. But somehow it all worked out. I wouldn't, however, recommend going away without internet contact and all that to anyone. We just didn't have that sort of thing back then. Anyway, the son of an old friend of mine from Ireland is travelling through north India and Nepal at the moment. He's never out of touch with his family thank to Facebook and the internet. Times have changed.

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. The topic 'touched' was given by Will Knott. The topic 'travelling alone' was given by Paul.

Shave or Crave - Choose or Lose?

2012-12-23T19:59:00.000+05:30

Apparently there is a new social movement going on in India - the 'Shave or Crave' movement. Indian women have decided to get together and pressurise the men to shave their evening stubble or face the consequences. I'm never one to sit on the sidelines when there is something exciting going on, so I've entered the Women Bloggers Shave or Crave drive. So I'm here to tell the man in my life that he'd better shave off his stubble - or else!

Yeah, there's nothing like a nice, clean shaven man to snuggle up to on cold winter nights - I suppose. As you might have gathered, I have a slight problem here. My man, such as he is, is not great for shaving during the winter months - simple and straightforward, that's him. No nonsense and straight to the point. Just the way I like it. He disappears behind a beard for the course of the winter months. After Diwali in November/October, his visage transforms. He becomes unrecognisable and I get this new husband. He develops a dark, morose kind of look, somewhat like one of those brooding heroes in the romance novels I read from time to time. But come Holi in the springtime, the beard is discarded and he emerges in all his clean-shaven glory.

So how do I handle this situation, firangi and all that I am? Simple! Like a good Indian wife, I've learnt to adjust. I actually enjoy the variety of the summer/winter variations that my spouse's personality and appearance offers. I'm not one to moan and complain - the way I look at it, our relationship has remained new, fresh and exciting precisely because of the variety it offers. That, in my humble opinion, is a way to stave off marital ennui. If he's keeping me happy with all this variety, how can I become bored and look outside our union for diversity or excitement?

And men, kindly note this piece of wisdom I'm about to share with you. When women confide that they like 'a bit of rough,' it doesn't mean that they want to be beaten up or worse, that the type of variety that the characters in 'Fifty Shades of Grey' by EL James indulge in is their craving! No. It means that they enjoy a man in all his facets, the rough and the smooth. Young girls may wax ecstatic over clean shaven heroes and actors with chocolate box beauty , but there's nothing like a mature man to really get the pulse racing. Especially as a woman matures and is in her prime. Of course lots of older women enjoy the company of younger men. That's okay too, if that's what they like. I'm generalising really, but I think I do have a point.

I can foresee problems with the 'Shave or Crave' movement. Some men never shave in India because of their religious faith. So if their women prefer a clean shaven man, they have to lump it. These ladies can't think of joining the 'Shave or Crave' drive. Sad.

As for me, having the best of both worlds, I'm perfectly happy. The razorblades manufacturing companies may not be too happy with me or my husband - but I guess we can live with it.

Between variety being the spice of life and the timeless wisdom of having to adjust to all circumstances (within reasonable parameters of course) I really do have the best of all worlds.

This post is a part of the 'Shave or Crave' movement in association with BlogAdda.com

Review - Indian Fiction - Love, Peace and Happiness by Rituraj Verma

2012-12-18T02:40:00.002+05:30

I remember reading a couple of years ago that authors should restrain themselves from writing short story collections. Apparently, they never sell. I'm not so sure if the goalposts haven't changed. In today's world, short fiction is on a definite upsurge. I'm not talking about print media or books. The truth is that there is tremendous scope for short stories in a fast moving world where readers need a quick fix of satisfying fiction. While print media seems to be on the decline and writers are taking pay cuts to stay in print (yeah, you should have seen my last pay check! Or rather, you shouldn't see it. You'd die of shock), the world of digital publishing is opening up and offering new, improved opportunities. There are many short story collections for sale on Amazon and even short books, with stories (novelettes, rather) as short as ten thousand words.

This short story collection by Rituraj Verma, Love, Peace and Happiness is a seriously innovative concept. The short stories deal with basic premises facing Indian middle class people in their daily lives. However, if the ending does not meet with the reader's satisfaction, the reader is free to visit the author's website and find an alternative ending. Or even write their own. Talk about an interactive readership! I have read heaps of books and haven't yet seen anything like this.

The stories and their various concepts are entertaining. Living as I do in India, I could relate to the characters. However, while I found the concept of 'pick your own ending' interesting, I chose not to go down that road. I'm a published short story writer myself and I am firmly of the view that a story can only have one ending. Whether you like it or not. I wouldn't have gone towards choosing alternative endings for any of the stories I've read. in this collection.

The book is written by an Indian for Indians. I liked it, but I'm not really sure if it would be of interest to international readers. Yet, who knows? It's really competitively priced on Amazon and even if you buy and find you didn't enjoy it, you haven't lost a great deal of money. So if you find the concept interesting, go ahead and splash out. I dare say you'll enjoy it. It is full of problems and situations peculiar to India and Indian life. The book is frank and open about sexual matters, using language which is neither romantic nor erotic. Clinical is the world which springs to mind!

My favourite story was the opening one, about a couple on holiday a year after marriage, coming to the realization that it just isn't working. I think, in a way, instead of writing a book of short stories the author could have written a novel (or a novella, you can even write novellettes of 10,000 words now) of each story and released each one separately. The author's style, simple language and in-your-face frankness will grow on you after a while even if you feel it is a bit too straight for comfort.

I do recommend it - and you can take it whatever way you want to, alternative endings or not.As an author, Rituraj Verma is committed to satisfying his readers and he certainly gave me a good read and characters which stayed with me after I'd finished each story.

Just remember that it is possible to pick your own ending in life, and that can be done by keeping ourselves in a good mood and feeding on as much positive energy as possible.

You can buy the ebook on Amazon.

Risk - LBC Post

2012-12-14T17:10:00.000+05:30

When I was growing up in Ireland, I was fortunate enough to be able to stay in school until completion, unlike my parents who were forced by economic circumstances to leave school early to go and find work. Back then, in my time, the dream of any person serious about their education was to stay on in school until their education was complete and then land a nice, secure job in the civil service (government service). The job had status and security and as far as anyone I knew thought, you really couldn't ask any more from a job.

I didn't land such a job, however. I ended up getting a job in a freight company run by a family. That is to say, the family head's name was on the company and his various children were involved in the running of, or worked in the company, alongside employees like me. The relationship between the family who owned the company and their employees was a little uneasy. We employees liked these people and enjoyed their presence in our lives yet nonethelesss felt resentment at our low salaries and a sense of 'we're no way less than them'. One Saturday, while in on overtime, I, the invoice typist and Jim the office messenger were in along with Finn, the owner's son. I overheard a conversation between Jim and Finn and it went something like this:

Jim: You have a great life. Your father runs this company and we're just your servants.

Finn: Are you serious? That's what you think? My old man invested every penny in this business. If it fails, we lose everything. Our home, our car, the lot. You people? You won't give a damn about us except for the fact that you'll miss your wages and have to get another job. All you want from our company is your salary. You're in here on Saturday and you're getting your overtime money. If my old man had his way, he'd have me in here twenty four hours but he'll pay me nothing extra. That's how it goes.

I didn't grow up around business people so I'd never heard a conversaton like that before. It really made me think. I'd always looked on government jobs and civil service jobs as the type of jobs to aim for. I suddenly began to understand that the business sector was actually generating the money which made it possible for government service to exist. In government service, you have job security and a guaranteed standard of salary. In the business sector, you may earn less money, bear more risk and yet you were actually one of the cogs in the machine that was making real money for the economy.

Which seemed really unfair somehow.

It seems to be much the same in India, among the people I married into. They are a community which has always worked in some kind of goverment service or other. One boy in the younger generation is now a manager and it is the first time a member of the family has gone into commerce. Another son has become an engineer, but is now employed in a private company.

Which is really very good I think.

It's so sad that the people who bear all the risks seem to get less reward - perhaps that's why people really envy those successful in business, who actually reap the reward of their risks.

There was a story going around the airport where I worked that the head of customs and the head of one of the transport companies based in the airport went to the same school and studied in the same class. According to common wisdom, the civil servant had topped all the class examinations and the future head of the transport company had bunked classes and failed everything. Ultimately, the brilliant student ended up as a dull civil servant on a fixed salary and the class brat ended up as a big businessman wearing flash suits and driving a huge car. Well, there's one risk taker who obviously did well for himself!

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. This topic (risk) was given by Grannymar.

Indian Fiction - Monsoon Wedding Fever by Shoma Narayanan

2012-12-12T19:45:00.002+05:30

As a reader of romance fiction who lives in India, I had to read this. Shoma Narayanan was one of the winners of Mills and Boon India's contest to find new Indian writers in 2010. Her novel, Monsoon Wedding Fever got an international release and is now nominated for a major romance fiction award.

Harlequin Mills and Boon are known for their 'formula' romance novels. Feelgood romantic fiction which has a happy ending. There's usually the main characters meeting in the first chapter, the conflict, the misunderstandings, the black moment and finally, the moment of commitment. Romance fiction is read by women the world over for its tranquillizing effect. A good romance novelist knows how to give her reader a good time, how to make her laugh, cry and sigh in one book. Contrary to popular illusion, you can't just whip up a romance novel. The challenge for the author is how to make the positive ending credible. A whole generation of bad romance novels put the genre into the area of ridicule. But some of the very best authors I have ever enjoyed reading are writers of romance fiction. Many romance novelists write other genres too, often under different names. In today's world, romance fiction is as popular as ever. HM&B have a range of novels of various 'heat' levels, to please the most fastidious of readers who don't want to see what happens in the bedroom to the most voyeuristic who want blow by blow descriptions every thrill and tremor.

Well, Shomaji's novel fits into the former category rather than the latter. It's a 'sweet' romance. Yes, the protagonists make love before they're even committed, but the readers are spared the details. Dhruv and Riya, the couple, are modern Indians, working in Mumbai, both from traditional families and deal with everyday issues, as young professionals do everywhere in the world. Riya struggles to help her parents financially and keep her head above water in the working world. The Mumbai floods don't help and leave Riya stranded in her office, unable to find a way out. But Dhruv, the hero comes to her rescue driving a mean motorcycle. The story certainly gladdens the heart.

It's a reunion story - the pair fell in love at college, but Dhruv walked away, feeling cynical about love and romance. His parents' unhappy love marriage had jaundiced his views. Riya and Dhruv are reunited when they meet at his cousin's wedding. The sparks fly again and Dhruv is ready to admit that he made a mistake by leaving Riya before. But will Riya take him back? A simple, down to earth girl, she is not going to let Dhruv charm her back with his money. He's going to have to prove himself now. Which is only right and proper.

I found the novel hugely enjoyable. I don't know Mumbai life, but I loved the Indian atmosphere, the believable characters, especially the fact that the hero was a modern young professional man rather than some fantasy prince or a playboy. The story felt very real, not a fantasy type story. I loved the fact that Hindi words appeared every so often. Over all, a very creditable romance novel, as good as any I've read.

The book's available nowadays as an ebook from Amazon.

The Power of Music

2012-12-07T21:01:00.000+05:30

Music can change my mood. Possibly because I know that I am governed by my ears, that is, what I hear. You can basically say what you like to me, but use words I dislike or (shudder) the wrong tone of voice and you will lose me. Perhaps forever. Before I realized my true psychological make up, life could be hell. A well meant piece of advice could reduce me to tears, particularly in my early youth. I lost more than one friend through tragic (at the time!) misunderstanding. My husband, like many Indians, has a blunt manner of speaking which can freak me out at times. I remember a rare, longed for letter arrived during our long courtship during one of the longer separations and it read something like this:

Dear Maria,

Thank you for the letter and photograph which you sent me. It was nice. The only problem was you look a bit plump but otherwise you look fine. Especially in that dress.....

I'm not sure how the letter didn't end up in the dustbin and our romance with it. Maybe it was because he said my dress was nice. Otherwise, we were definitely on the way out.......

But music? Ah, yes, I was coming to that. I was reading a book recently called 'The Secret" by Rhonda Byrne. It's one of those book which teaches you how to attract the positive forces of the universe to bring you all the joy and cash your heart desires. So I'm reading this and I'm thinking, 'yeah, I can do this.' But then it cautions that the human mind thinks thousands of thoughts per day. How can you control the thoughts. Simple! By using mood lifters. That means things that lift our moods. In my case it would probably mean eating lots of chocolate and drinking lots of wine, but I'll end up getting even more plump than ever, which I don't really want so......the other simple solution is music.

Because I could be feeling really bad. Then I hear a song I like and like magic, the mood just lifts. Especially when I hear songs from the early sixties and seventies.

When I turn on Youtube, I often play Irish music. Seventies Irish rock music. My favourite track has to be Dearg Doom by the Horslips. They were a group who looked like a bunch of Celtic warriors. Nowadays they look like a bunch of retired politicians but that's not the point really. 'Dearg Doom' means red warrior and is a fusion of rock and Irish music. The red warrior was Cuchulainn, an Irish mythological hero.

I love the music of Clannad, too. They play traditional Irish fused with modern popular music. Then there's U2. Years ago, some of the girls in my class used to go at the weekends to listen to this group, who were a group of boys who attended a Mount Temple, non-denominational school on Dublin's northside, where we lived. They're now one of the world's supergroups. One of the members' cousins was in my sister's class. It's hard to believe how far they've come. I love lots of their music. It takes me right back. But depending on mood, I love country and western (Patsy Clyne, Garth Brooks, Dolly Parton), soul music (Marvin Gaye, Diana Ross).and some of those horribly misogynistic heavy metal bands like Whitesnake and Rainbow. It just depends on mood really. Then I could get really homesick and start listening to The Dubliners playing the Seven Drunken Nights. My current favourite track to listen to right now is Summer Wine by The Corrs, featuring Bono from U2. I also have days where I freak out on the Beatles, the Bee Gees and the Rolling Stones. There was lots of punk and ska music around when I was at school, not to mention the unbelievable Kate Bush. I like all that stuff too.

What's my favourite song of all time? I'm not sure really. But I think it could very well be Greensleeves. I don't know who sings that. I never did. I also love 'I Want To Be Seduced' by Mary Coughlan. She's Irish, btw. I also like Indian singers now. I love all the music from the recent Indan hit movie Ek Tha Tiger, the Cuban, the Turkish and the Irish songs. Which are all in Hindi.My husband loves some Indian singers like RD Burman and Mukesh. So I like them too.

The truth is, that with musical taste like mine, I'll never be bored. Or sad!

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too. This topic (music) was given by Shackman.

Cultural Differences

2012-12-01T13:21:00.001+05:30

My online friend Indu Jalali, an Indian woman living abroad with a keen sense of human rights, brought this article to my attention on Twitter yesterday. If you have the time and patience to follow the link, you will read the report that an Indian couple has been arrested by the authorities in Norway for attempting to discipline their son. Reading this report made me shake my head in despair. The world is getting smaller. Why is it that there is such a lack of understanding of different cultural norms? Apparently, the boy is now in protective custody while his parents are under arrest. This is madness.

Worse - the boy's parents apparently threatened that they would send him home to India if he didn't improve his behaviour. What's abusive about that? I shudder to think what would have happened to the Irish mothers who I saw around me when I was growing up in Ireland. Some of us in Ireland (not all, lest I make the mistake of generalizing) have the habit of using gross exaggeration in our speech i.e. 'I nearly died!', 'I'll go mad,' and so on. We use horrid sounding words like 'kill' or 'murder' with abandon. I don't know how many times I heard a mother say 'I'll kill ye' or 'I'll murder ye' to their misbehaving child. Did they mean it? Of course not. It's just a figure of speech.

About six months back it was widely reported that two Indian infants had been removed from the care of their parents about a year previously. The Norwegian authorities had been indignant that the young children still slept in their parents' bed and were fed by hand. By taking the children into custody at that tender age, the authories must have damaged the children far more than their parents upbringing might have done. The children were eventually released into the care of their paternal uncle and sent home to India. Meanwhile, the relationship between the parents collapsed under the strain and the mother, once home in India, had terrible trouble trying to get to see her children the last time I read.

It might sound horrifying to some people that two infants were sleeping in their parents' bed, but it is not so long ago that the practise of co-sleeping as it is called, was practised worldwide. In early society, no one would have dreamed of allowing an infant to sleep alone and the safest place to sleep has traditionally been beside the mother. Living in India, I slept with all my babies when they were small and I never had to stumble out of bed on a cold night to attend to a howling infant in another room. I never had the agony of putting a child down to sleep and sneaking away to get some sleep myself. Co-sleeping makes a child feel wonderfully secure. Along with the industrial development of society, a type of distance seems to have grown up between parents and children.

India got industrial development rather late in comparison with the rest of the world, hence, traditional methods of child rearing are more common here. Take breastfeeding for example. I took full advantage of the fact that I was a stay at home mother to breastfeed all my kids for years rather than months. I was able to do it because in Indian society, breastfeeding is considered very good and desirable. Sadly, in the west, some people look upon breastfeeding - the most natural way to feed a child - with disgust. The breast has sexual connotations and must not be bared in public! This is an obscene idea to my mind.

People in the west often fail to understand the pressure Indians who move to the west face from the expectations of their friends and family members back home in India. I met Annie, an Indian nurse, when I was in Ireland during the summer. She told me how her family members and in laws back home had high expectations of her wealth and affluence, believing that the streets of the industrial west were paved with gold. Annie had seen the harsh reality. With three kids,a mortgage and a husband who was working hard to succeed in business, she didn't have much cash to spare for gifts to relatives back home, but did the best she could. Her thoughtful gifts (perfumes, fashionable handbags and umbrellas) were sneered at and thrown aside by disappointed relatives expecting iPads and gold chains. This is one of the reasons why Indian people would try to rent the smallest, least expensive flat when they move to the west, to try to save some money so they can feed the hungry crocodile of misinformed relatives' greed. If you were to look at their small living space disdainfully and tell them that it was abusive to their young children, they would not understand you. Besides, Indians use the indoors primarily for cooking and sleeping. Many of them tend to put a premium on outdoor space, they love to sit in the garden and get fresh air. When the sun is not too strong, that is.

I remember reading about a young mother from a Scandinavian (Sweden or Denmark maybe?) country who visited the United States with her two year old daughter. She was truly astonished to be arrested for the criminal negligence of her child when she left the infant sitting outside a restaurant in a pushchair while she dined inside with a friend. She said that everyone did that in her home country.

The truth is that every culture has it's accepted norm when it comes to child rearing, but what is acceptable in some cultures is sometimes unacceptable in others. For Indians moving to the west, some kind of preparational counselling is required to understand the society in which they will be living. It is also imperative that the host culture tries in some way to understand the culture of the people who are coming to live among them to avoid misunderstanding. Because misunderstanding can have tragic consequences. Just ask that Bengali mother whose marriage was destroyed and whose children were removed from her care in Norway.

Since I published this blog post, the unfortunate parents have been sentenced to fifteen months and eighteen months imprisonment respectively. I really feel that with some understanding, this situation could have been avoided. To read Indu Jalali's take on this, go here. Indu Jalali is an Indian born woman who is resident in Europe.

Review - Indian Fiction - THE BANKSTER by Ravi Subramanian

2012-11-26T14:47:00.000+05:30

I've just found a new Indian author, new for me at least. He's some storyteller I must say, he's definitely rivalling Jeffrey Archer in my affections. So welcome to my life, Ravi Subramanian! And thank you for the signed copy of your latest novel in return for an honest review.

Here in India, we accept that corruption is a part of the political system and the bureaucracy at least to some extent. But in banking? I hadn't even entertained the thought. And not just in Indian banks, international banks! So that's the premise of this novel, which is one heck of a read. Yes, unputdownable and addictive are words which spring to mind.

Indian fiction in English is unique. For one thing, different rules apply. If the bank ran 'very efficiently', well that's because it happened in India, my friends. 'Very efficiently' is a phrase unique to Indian English and I really wouldn't have it any other way. The dialogue fairly sparkles with 'Hinglish' phrases, replies like 'haan yaar' and the prose has that Indian flavour which those of us who live here will immediately indentify. One beauty of a phrase I spotted was , 'a cup of cutting chai'. It hit the spot like nothing else and for an English speaker like me who lives in the Hindi belt, provided great reading entertainment.

Like the storyteller that he is, Subramanian weaves a tapestry of various threads, one beginning in Angola, one in Kerala and one in Mumbai, the main one being Mumbai. We don't actually get to link the three together until the final scenes close in. The author will surprise you every so often, sometimes withholding key information in order to add impact to a scene. The characters definitely come alive on the page and the reader engages with them as the story develops. I didn't find it difficult to keep on reading although the three threads seemed quite separate. Scheherazade like, he keeps you hanging on so you've got to keep coming back. The closure is satisfying and makes you glad you read the novel through.

Anything negative to say? Very little if at all. Just one or two things maybe. Although the dialogue flowed naturally for the most part, I detected a slightly stilted piece of dialogue a very odd time. Like the time when Harshita Lele's husband tells her that she's still as lovely as she was when he married her seven years before. Sweet. But wouldn't you think she'd know how long she's been married? Also, the bank in Mumbai thread switched main characters several times. First the main character was Vikram. Then it switched to Nikhil. Then for a short while, Anand. Then Raymond. Then Karan. It's like they were passing the baton from one to the other. You engage with a character, then he's gone. But it's a minor complaint really. I'm not going to crib about it.

Indian popular fiction is coming of age. So well done, Ravi Subramanian. You've done a nice job here!

My sincere apologies to Ravi Subramanian and Blogadda for the late publication of this review. I'm afraid I was carried away by Diwali madness and couldn't get into reading for a week or two.

This book is available in India where all good books are sold.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Savita Halappanavar II

2012-11-17T11:26:00.000+05:30

A few years ago, a relative of mine discovered that she was pregnant. She was forty years old with a nine year old son. She decided to get her pregnancy terminated. She went to see her doctor and asked for a letter to recommend a termination. She was too old, she said. She'd moved on, she wasn't interested in rearing an infant. Her nine year old son would be neglected, she felt. Her life would be turned upside down. The doctor heard her out, then spoke.

"Why do you want to go against God?" she said. The patient was astonished. What did the doctor mean?

"You have only one child, already grown. There is no reason why you cannot look after another. Moreover, your age is forty, but your health is fine. I will not recommend a termination," came the reply.

The patient decided to go with the doctor's advice. She has never, to my knowledge, regretted it. This, my friends, was not in "Catholic" Ireland. This was in India. Secular India, where the abortion laws are very much in place. If a doctor in Ireland spoke to a patient like that in the Ireland of today, he or she would probably be vilified from every possible side.

A couple of years ago, Chunni, a poor woman who used to come to my house to work, found out that she was pregnant, with her seventh child. Financially, she couldn't think of going through with the pregnancy, she was already hard pressed looking after six. However, help was at hand. As well as working in my house, Chunni was also working in the house of a gynaecologist who was ready to give her an abortion. Chunni informed us that she wouldn't be coming to work for a couple of days as she was going to get her pregnancy aborted.

She was back at work the next day.

"Chunni, back already? Didn't you have the surgery?" I asked her. She shook her head.

"The doctor wouldn't do it," she replied. "I have high blood pressure. She said she couldn't take the responsibility."

It was as simple as that.

Now, I don't know a lot about medicine or surgery, but I do know that medical termination of pregnancy is not a walk in the park. It is a medical procedure and for it to be safe, certain factors have to be present. As a lay person, I wouldn't have much knowledge of what they are. These matters are best known to the doctors.

I remember going to a doctor here for treatment of an abscess.

"Can it be lanced and drained?" I asked. My family doctor had told me that it might be. The doctor fixed me with a cold glare.

"I will decide about lancing and draining," he said. He made the position crystal clear. He was the doctor. I was the patient. He would make the decision about treatment. If you submit to a doctor for treatment, you accept what he or she prescribes.

The Pro-Choice Movement in Ireland has taken Savita Halappanavar's cause to it's heart. But Savita was not, in the strict sense of the term, looking to exercise her right to choose whether and when to become a mother. She was miscarrying and needed emergency surgery. People are crying themselves hoarse saying that she was denied life saving surgery because of "medieval, Catholic laws".

So was she actually denied life saving surgery because of a law?

Only a proper inquiry will be able to confirm this. I believe several inquiries are being initiated as I write. I await their result with great interest.

And even if it is proved beyond reasonable doubt that this unfortunate young woman was denied life saving surgery, it may have been the helplessness of the doctors to act and not lack of compassion that is responsible for this tragic loss of life. The Irish Constitution provides for the right to life of the unborn, but if there is an absence of procedure in place for the rarest of rare cases, then that is an oversight of legislation, which I am sure no one could have foreseen. It is a fact that the Pro Life Amendment has been in place for more than two decades and this, to my knowledge, is the first time that a situation like this has arisen. So 'rare' certainly applies in this case.

A commenter to my previous blog post had this to say:

"Leaving the 'Pro Life' and the 'Pro Choice' movements to one side for the moment, the question I would like an answer too is: If instead of a young visitor to our shores, the patient was THE WIFE, SISTER OR DAUGHTER of the Consultant, that is of course if it was a Consultant and not an SHO who make the decision: Would she have been left in extreme pain with an open uterus for three days? I doubt it."

I don't think that it's medical practice for doctors and surgeons to operate and treat their own family members because of emotional involvement, although they may prescribe medicines in an emergency. That's an interesting point that has been made, but I'd like to point out that to the best of my knowledge, Savita was not a visitor, but a resident of Ireland, as I'm a resident of India. It hurts me to have to say this but it looks very much to me as if the commenter was accusing the staff of the hospital of racism and partiality. I know the commenter is a very caring and compassionate human being, but until the truth of the matter has been properly examined, I think that it would be better to refrain from making what amounts to very serious and even slanderous accusations. Emotion is running high and I would respectfully ask that if an Irish woman, instead of an Indian woman had died, would this question even be asked? Moreover, this comment presumes that it was in the medical staff's hands to help Savita and they just wouldn't do it. Again, we're getting into the area of slander. Doesn't anybody understand the principle of 'innocent until proven guilty'? Let the culpability of the hospital staff be proven, then let the correct measures be taken.

Much is being made of the fact that in the course of the tragic few days, Praveen was given the reason "this is a Catholic country" when he and Savita were begging for her to be given an abortion. This remark has been the cause of outrage. But what really happened? Were these words 'this is a Catholic country' actually spoken? Have these words, in fact, been twisted out of context? Who actually spoke them?

Was this the scenario?

PRAVEEN (begging): See, my wife is dying. Please save her. Why can't you give her an abortion?

DOCTOR (harshly): This is a Catholic country.

Or was it like this?

PRAVEEN (shocked): What? You mean to tell me that in this day and age you don't do abortion in Ireland? That's unbelievable? Why is this?

DOCTOR (helplessly): This is a Catholic country.....

The truth is, how words are interpreted depends very much on context in which they are spoken. As of now, Praveen, raw from grief and loss, has been telling his story. I haven't heard the other side yet and I suspect that no one will know what it is until the proper investigations have taken place.

Finally, from what I've read in the papers, it seems that self-flagellation and guilt is alive and well and living in Ireland. Emer O'Toole's article 'Medieval and Barbaric', which originally appeared in 'The Guardian', appeared in Hindustan Times today. In this article she publicly apologized to Savita's family, saying that she was 'ashamed, culpable and sorry'. Having visited Ireland this year, I know that the Catholic church influence in Ireland is long gone, but I fail to understand how Ms. O'Toole, a former Catholic, could be experiencing such guilt. The joke that the Catholic feels guilty ever since Sister Imelda told them in First Class that they were responsible for the sins of the entire universe is beginning to sound eerily true.

Relax Emer. You didn't kill Savita. Savita died tragically early in an Irish hospital owing to a pregnancy complication. It is yet to be established whether she was denied potentially life saving treatment because of inept Irish laws. We are all sorry about it, but in the last analysis, I can safely say that no one would have ever meant for this tragedy to happen. If there is anything that can be learnt from the situation, then hopefully it will be.

It's good that the Irish people have taken Praveen to their hearts. No doubt, every investigation will be carried out and no stone will be left unturned to find out the truth. I wish that every person who suffers as he has will get the same compassion.

Savita Halappanavar

2012-11-16T10:51:00.000+05:30

Today is Friday, the day I write my LBC post. The topic is pleasure. I'm sorry, but I'm not writing on that topic. Today pleasure couldn't be further from my mind. I've been crying for the last two days since the news broke.

Out here in India, there is disturbing news from Ireland. My Ireland. Savita Halappanavar, a young Indian woman living in Ireland was, it is reported, was refused a life saving abortion. She consequently died. On the news, I'm seeing outrage. 'Ireland should be forced to change it's abortion laws', the headlines are screaming. 'The Irish Killed My Daughter To Save A 3 Month Fetus'. Beautiful Savita has now become the martyr of the pro-choice movement. And Ireland is seen as some backward place which is full of religious maniacs who need to have sense imposed upon them.

I'm only too aware of the abortion debate in Ireland. I was there some twenty years ago when the Pro-Life Amendment Campaign was going on. I'm well aware of the emotional tactics used by both the Pro-Choice and Pro-Life sides. An interview with an eminent Indian doctor (the name escapes me) living in Galway appears in the Times of India today, deploring how the Irish 'allow disabled children to be born' by not having abortions. I wanted to scream. Well Doctor Sahib, how very enlightened. You, a doctor, believe that a person should be killed because they are disabled? You think that because a person has disabilities that he or she has no right to live? Would you be offended that a person who cannot walk has the right to hold a government job and own their own house and even get married? Or get an education? Oh, dear, the Irish are so backward! We must do something about this, fast!

I'm an Irish citizen living in India. I have mixed British and Irish heritage and a mixed religious background too. I'm neither proud nor ashamed of being either. I just accept what I am and get on with it.

It's amazing how everyone respects doctors in some ways. Anything a doctor says tends to get the same respect that scripture does. If a doctor expresses an opinion on ethics and morals, people tend to give a lot more weight than they would if someone like me ('just a housewife' I was called recently, well I've been called worse) expressed an opinion.

At the same time, it's amazing how many people, without medical qualifications, tend to think that they are qualified to give their opinion on medical matters about which they know nothing. I remember how seventeen years ago in India, my son was born with pneumonia after a difficult, premature delivery. A senior relative on the Indian side of the family made a remark, with great authority, that if this child had been born by caeserean section, he wouldn't have had pneumonia. I saw red. I had done my reading on the subject and as far as I could ascertain, as per the medical knowledge at the time, there was no real difference in the incidence of post natal pneumonia in children born by normal vaginal delivery or by caeserean. That person, bless them, wanted to sound important, but I, full of post partum emotions, felt cheated. One of the things which had given me comfort during my son's illness was the fact that I had been able to have a normal delivery. Not that I look down on people who have caeserean operations, but one of my dreams for my baby had been to have a normal delivery and I felt great satisfaction that I'd been able to do that. And a person who knew just nothing about these matters was speaking like an expert.

By the same token, thousands of people are saying that Savita could have been saved if she had an abortion. The investigation into the death has not been completed. How does anyone know she could have been saved if her foetus had been removed when she requested? It was removed two days after she asked, but she died anyway. Very tragic and very sad. All I have to say about the matter was that if the doctors knew that the pregnancy was not sustainable, then they certainly wouldn't have violated the foetus's right to life by removing it. But I'm not a doctor and I wasn't there. And I don't believe I'd be in a position to comment until the results of the investigation come out. That could take just months. It may very well be that in the absence of proper guidelines about what to do in the rarest of rare cases, doctors may be afraid to perform life saving surgery on women in this situation because of the fear of being accused of malpractise. If that's the case, that's very negligent on the part of the competent authorities. Constitutional laws need constitutional lawyers to interpret them and I wonder does any hospital in Ireland have a panel of constitutional lawyers who can be consulted in emergency cases like this? Proper guidance and support for medical staff is needed, if it's not in place already.

Of course Savita's parents are hurting. As is her husband. As far as I am concerned, they can say more or less anything about the backwardness of the Irish if it makes them feel better. Anger is very much a part of the bereavement process and having a focus for that anger is important. I don't mind what they say about Ireland as they come to terms with their grief. Grief needs time to heal and come to terms with what happened. And the Irish people I've seen and read are hanging their heads in shame.

We're fortunate to live in an age where neonatal and maternal deaths are fewer than ever. But the fact is, they still happen and when they do, it is shocking. We wonder what the reason could be. But sometimes, stuff just happens. Someone close to me gave birth to a child a few years ago and the child died within hours of delivery. Nothing during the pregnancy gave any indication that anything was wrong. That child was delivered in a state of the art European hospital with excellent staff and all the latest equipment. Sometimes, with the best will in the world, things go wrong. The same thing happened recently in Ireland to a family friend. When the door between life and death opens up, we really don't know how things can go. Of course we can be glad that maternal deaths are rarer than ever, but that's no comfort if you just lost your wife in that very circumstance.

Here in India, Savita's country, where I live, abortion is so available that people take it for granted. Women still die here in childbirth. People shrug here and say how sad it is. Then they carry on. No hysteria here, not for this matter anyway. I've also noticed that here abortion is very often not about a woman's right to choose, but her husband's right to choose. Or her mother in law's.

Before I finish I'd just like to say that I'm no misogynist religious fanatic. I'm no fan of organized religion. Not anymore. I've gone through four pregnancies, two of them high risk. I believe that in a pregnancy, both the mother and child are equally important. I would just rather know all the facts about Savita's case before making judgments.

When my eldest child was in hospital as a newborn, a woman who we met in the hospital told me and my husband an interesting story. Apparently two years previously, her sister had come in to the hospital with premature labour pains. On finding no response from the baby, the doctors removed it, told the family that the child was dead and the family went into deep grief. Less than an hour later, the doctor came back and told them that by some miracle, the baby was now showing signs of life. It was a son. Did the family want the hospital to give this baby treatment? Did they what? Of course they did. So the doctors treated the baby and it survived. All rejoiced to have a son in the family.

Before the family left the hospital, they were approached by an ayah (nurse's aide) asking them for shagun (a tip). She explained to them that she'd been throwing soiled dressings in the bin when she noticed a chirping sound. On investigation, she found a newborn baby in the bin along with bloody dressings and used syringes. She'd picked up the baby and ran to find the doctor who, remembering whose baby it was, decided to approach the family. Happily, the family were ready to accept it.

This story had a happy ending, but it horrified and shocked me. I don't know who that family is or where they live in my city, but I do know that it's true. Imagine what could have happened if the child hadn't been found on time?

All I know is that I never wanted to live in a society where human life was so cheap that it could be discarded and thrown in a bin.

'This Will Be My Epitaph'

2012-11-09T18:38:00.000+05:30

This topic for my weekly LBC post fairly put a shiver up my spine, no disrespect intended to the excellent Maria Silverfox who suggested it. I suppose I'm not alone in saying that I find epitaphs and graves and vaults and the like rather creepy.

I was able to be honest about it the day I came to understand that when God the Father created us, He never intended for us to die. Nor to age beyond our prime either. Death was brought into this world by the Enemy, who manipulated man, and brought with him the curse of death.

I belong to the group of Christians who believe that Jesus will come back one day and take those of his followers who are still alive with Him to a new life in Heaven and that those who have passed on previously - like my late father for example - will rise from the dead and join us.

All that worldly wisdom that ageing is inevitable and that death is the only certainty is not for me now. Sure, I am ageing, I'm almost fifty. I certainly don't look as I did when I was sixteen, but I rather like my mature self. Sure, I'd like to be slimmer. I'd like to be less grey. But I love the fact that I've done some amazing things in my life. I've travelled around the world. I've given birth to four children. I've been madly, crazily in love and taken the risks that go with it. I've written a book or two. Yeah, I've stayed out all night and danced and drank wine till the sun came up. I'm still happy and excited about what the future holds. I don't believe that the evening shadows are encroaching, as someone dear to me wrote recently. About himself.

So as for epitaphs? Well, I don't know if I'll have a grave. My beloved husband is of the Hindu faith and if he has anything to do with it, I'll be cremated and have my ashes immersed in the Ganges. If my Irish family has anything to do with it, I could be buried in grave, but it may be a shared, family grave. I intend to try to live until the Lord comes back and graves and crematoria couldn't be further from my mind. If an epitaph becomes a necessary evil, it would be: GET A LIFE AND LIVE THAT LIFE.

Praise the Lord Jesus, who came so that we could have life and have it more abundantlyl.

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too.

Best Answer To The Question 'Does My Bum Look Big In This?'

2012-10-26T19:58:00.001+05:30

This is the weirdest post title I've done for the LBC (Loose Blogging Consortium). And yes, I'm late.

Life has been crazy lately. This is my major blog, my personal blog. It is supposed to be an expat blog. I opened up a new blog this week in keeping with my changing lifestyle and have neglected this one shamefully. But I miss this blog terribly. So here I am trying to go on with 'gaelikaa's diary.' But I digress.

So if someone asked me 'does my bum look big in this?' what would I say?

I'd say no. If someone needs to ask a question like that, their confidence is obviously low and I'm not the person who will damage another person's self esteem.

Clothes can't make someone's rear look larger. Being overweight does. Anyways, I'm not terribly visual and don't dwell to much on what I see, unless I'm reading. I'm much more likely to be interested in what a person is like to have a conversation with than in how they look.

I remember when I was in my teens, I went away for a weekend with the girl guides group I was in. I was a very innocent teenager, my hormones hadn't exactly started raging. Yet. Lots of girls I knew were already hanging around with fellas and 'getting off' with them. 'Getting off' with someone meant kissing as I understood it. I just hadn't gone there yet. I remember one of the girls in our group, Noeleen, had a new pair of jeans which she literally had to squeeze into.

"Oh, girls!" she wailed. "Does my arse look huge in these jeans?" I had a look and nodded in the negative. She looked perfectly fine. She had the adorable, round curves of young womanhood, and sure, what on earth is wrong with that? It was in this era that I remember girls all over the world started going crazy when their bodies started changing shape and looking womanly. They used to worry that they were fat. Then we started hearing horrid stories of the eat-vomit-eat nightmares nightmares of anorexia nervosa and bulimia.

I was always slightly on the overweight side and being short didn't help. But I grew a perfect figure when I was breastfeeding. I lactated for a full ten years - from the time my first baby was born till my last one was weaned, going from one pregnancy to another without a breastfeeding break. The problem was, I used to eat like a horse. I continued to do so even when I wasn't breastfeeding. So I'm a bit concerned about my weight these days. Trying to cut back on fried food and sweets, which isn't easy in north India.

While we're on this topic, I remember once or twice I was chatting with girlfriends on the subject of fanciable men. This would have been when I was in my twenties. We all had some attribute we would like the man of our dreams to have. One girl wanted hers to be tall and muscular. I wanted mine to be intelligent and preferably not too fat or too thin. I definitely didn't wish him to be taller than me because any man who is shorter than me would be an extremely short person and statistically, there is not so much of them around.

One of my friends, Linda, was adamant on the attribute she wanted her man to have. "He has to have a nice, neat arse," she said. I was so surprised. It wouldn't even occur to me to think of something like that.

"What a strange thing to say," I mused.

"She's right," replied Miriam, another friend. "Who wants some eejit going around with the trousers hanging off him?" Well, I couldn't disagree with that.

I had a great bunch of girlfriends, they used to make me laugh all right.

Before I go, I'd like to say something about my new blog. It's a sort of writing blog. I had one of those before, but this is a little different. I'm hoping to interview authors and do book reviews there. Mostly romantic fiction writers, but I'm open to all genres. Any of my readers here (I know there are very few left, but there are some, I know) is most welcome to come over and visit. And please leave a comment to let me know you came over. The blog address is ishmarind.blogspot.in and it's called (surprise!) Maria's Book Blog.

Until my next post, see you soon.

This is my weekly post for my blogging group, the Loose Blogging Consortium. We post weekly (usually simultaneously) on a given topic and visit each other to see the different takes we have on the same topic. We are, in alphabetical order, Anu, Delirious, Rummuser, Grannymar, Maxi, Magpie, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, The Old Fossil, Shackman and Will. If you have time, please visit my friends too.

Review - The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi

2012-09-22T18:51:00.001+05:30

Blurb

Five thousand years ago, there came to earth a magical being called Krishna, who brought about innumerable miracles for the good of mankind. Humanity despaired of its fate if the Blue God were to die but was reassured that he would return in a fresh avatar when needed in the eventual Dark Age, the Kaliyug. In modern times, a poor little rich boy grows up believing that he is that final avatar. Only, he is a serial killer. In this heart-stopping tale, the arrival of a murderer who executes his gruesome and brilliantly thought-out schemes in the name of God is the first clue to a sinister conspiracy to expose an ancient secret, Krishna’s priceless legacy to mankind. Historian Ravi Mohan Saini must breathlessly dash from the submerged remains of Dwarka and the mysterious lingam of Somnath to the icy heights of Mount Kailash, in a quest to discover the cryptic location of Krishna's most prized possession. From the sand-washed ruins of Kalibangan to a Vrindavan temple destroyed by Aurangzeb, Saini must also delve into antiquity to prevent a gross miscarriage of justice. Ashwin Sanghi, bestselling author of 'The Rozabal Line' and 'Chanakya's Chant', brings you yet another exhaustively researched whopper of a plot in 'The Krishna Key' while providing an incredible alternative explanation of the Vedic Age that will be relished by conspiracy buffs and thriller addicts alike.

Review

You read the blurb above, now read the review!

Simply put, it's a thriller. A very absorbing read which is tailor made to while away long hours - the kind of long hours you find yourself facing when you're on one of those long distance train journeys that we often find ourselves on in India. You'll forget the heat, the dust, the humidity, you won't hear the chaiwallas and the milling crowds - you'll be lost to the world. If you like thrillers with religious and mythological overtones, that is. Just as well I do. Yes, the Da Vinci Code me riveted to my chair for almost twenty four hours. And it's not because I'm not a devout Christian who believes in the story of Jesus as handed down by the Holy Bible. I am and I do. Heck, I just like thrillers. The more breathtaking and heart racing the better. This one qualifies all right.

During this book, we read that the number 108 is sacred to Hindus. The book is divided into 108 chapters, each beginning with a story from the life of Lord Krishna, the eight avatar of Lord Vishnu, the second person of the Hindu trinity of godheads. The book has at its centre the brilliant but rather too quiet academic and historian Ravi Mohan Saini and the aggressive policewoman Inspector Radhika Singh. God, but she is direct and extremely abusive, although we are given to understand that she has reasons for being like that. The hard-boiled Inspector Radhika turns out quite dove-like in the end, because after all, where Krishna is, love is sure to follow. He's the Hindu version of Eros, if you ask me.

A group of august academicians are found to be ritualistically slaughtered, while Sanskrit verses (slokas) invoking Lord Vishnu are found written near the bodies in the victims' own blood. Pretty gruesome. Inspector Radhika leaps to the conclusion that historan Anil Varshney was slain by his friend Ravi Saini because the two had dined together the previous evening and also because a scalpel with the initials RS was found near the body. I ached to ask the lady if she could honestly believe that gentle academics are in the habit of carrying scalpels around, never mind having their intitials engraved on them. Nor did it seem likely that the murderer would be idiot enough to leave the murder weapon lying about with the culprit's initials on it. But then, that's just me. Anyway, Dr. Ravi is arrested and his doctoral student Priya (who seems kind of sweet on him) accompanies him for support. Before we know where we are, Dr. Ravi and Priya have escaped, and are leading Inspector Radhika and her Sub Inspector Rathore a merry dance around northern India. The action moves from the snowy slopes of Mount Kailash in Tibet to the temple of Somnath in search of the lost treasure of Krishna. What could it possibly be? A nuclear bomb? A DNA sample? Well, you'll just have to read the book to find out. Meanwhile, the serial killer is never far away, lurking in the shadows. Who is he? What does he want? Yes, this thriller will send a few chills up your spine all right. Stick with it and you'll be glad you did.

Ashwin Sanghi knows his mythology and I can even forgive him for saying that Christianity is only two thousand years old and that Hinduism predates it (Christianity being the culmination of the Abrahamic Covenant, isn't any less ancient than Hinduism or any other religion, NOT that being older gives any religion an edge where truth is concerned). But here's my real concern. The author could do with a crit group - a group of writers who can read and give him a bit of feedback. Or maybe he should just change his crit group. For starters, the dialogue is very unnatural, glaringly so in some places. Look at this:

Priya nodded. Turning to Saini, she said, 'Don't worry Prof! As you know, my father - Sanjay Ratnani - is a leading criminal lawyer. I'll ask him to represent you.'

Lovely stuff, but don't you think the good Professor would know who her father was? Wouldn't it would look, shall we say, appropriate, if she said something like:

'Don't worry, Prof. Dad is there to represent you. I'll see to it.'

Then again, it's probably just me.

Lots of history lessons are woven into the dialogue and while I found it good enough, I fear that it might slow down the pace of the story for some readers.

Stilted dialogue notwithstanding, the thriller really was what we call paisa vasool here in India - value for money. Plenty of chills and spills and surprises along the way and cliff hanging tension up until the last minute. Be prepared for a few surprises. The result of things not always being what they seem.

You can get a copy here, (ebook available internationally), here if you are in India and want a print copy and here (ebook) if you are in the UK.

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