Clearing the clutter in the attic...

Can you save everyone ?

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Fri, 07 Feb 2020 12:50:00 +0000

I am tired....
tired of funerals....
tired of hospitals....
tired of flying home with a pit in my stomach....

But I don't have the time or luxury to feel sorry for myself.
There are too many things and too many people
counting on me,
counting on me to take decisions, to make things happen,
counting on me to be strong.

Gone are the days when my biggest problem was
an exam, a job interview or a bank loan.
Now it is about choosing between
a dying grandparent or a sick parent,
a lonely parent or a suffering sibling,
the family you want to raise or the family that raised you.

Can I really be the super woman
that does it all ?
that saves everyone ?
and if I cannot, can I forgive myself ?

Children are a ray of sunshine. They have a beautiful way of
living in the present....
bringing joy with a simple remark....
knowing when you need a hug....
showing you what matters.

What's in a name ?

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Sun, 02 Dec 2018 16:42:00 +0000

The alarm goes off and I sleepily try to snooze, when I notice that its 6:30 already and jump out of bed. I have to be out the door at 7:30. 30 minutes later I am hurrying downstairs to grab a bowl of cereal, I smell freshly made coffee and hear the sound of mustard seeds spluttering (couldn't help but think of ''pasi konda neram thalikum osai sandhosha sangeetham'') and there is amma bringing me a plate of crispy dosas with chutney and cup of coffee. While I am eating it, she is making me a lunch box with savory biryani and deep fried potatoes. As I groan about how I am eating too much, she says ''sapdu, sapdu, vela pakka thembu vendama'' and I grin to myself thinking of how much ''thembu'' do I need to sit at a desk all day.

My daughter had made a friend at school. The girls hung out all the time and liked each other a lot. I casually mentioned this to amma and she said ''why not call them for lunch or dinner this saturday''? I thought it was a great idea and I texted the father of the girl and asked him if he and his family could join us for a meal. He wrote back saying ''Let me check with my husband and get back to you''. It was then I realised that he was in a same sex marriage and I wasnt quite sure how amma felt about it. So I asked her and in her usual diplomacy and tact, she said ''That little girl loves my grand daughter and is her best friend. What more could we want''. Not only did the couple love amma's food, the father even made play dates with amma so that the kids could meet, when I was busy.

Amma was coming with us to Malta for vacation. Because it was quite hot there, I suggested we go shopping for some summer-friendly clothes. I wasn't quite sure she will warm up to the idea of tunics, straw hats and glasses. But that's exactly what she did - she chose great but inexpensive (mothers have a way of finding good deals!) outfits and carried them off with great panache ! Amma never shied away from trying something new.

I was traveling to Chicago for work. My flight was delayed. Immigration took forever. Traffic was crazy. So by the time, I got to the hotel, it was 3 hours later than usual. There was a flurry of whatsapp messages from amma asking me if I had reached the hotel, asking me to be safe, to drink a lot of water to fight jet lag, to rest well before going into work. I thought to myself, even in your 30s, only moms can treat you like a teenage girl.

I was in India for my sister-in-law's wedding. Amma comes to me, hands me a jewelry box. When I open it, its a pretty gold necklace and while I am admiring it, she says ''nee muhurthathula pottuko''. There is no occasion, no birthday, no anniversary. She just got me a necklace because she felt like it.

I came home for summer holidays and noticed there was a brand new keyboard in the living room. I asked amma about it and she said ''Oh..yes, I have too much time, so I decided to learn how to play the keyboard. I have only passed level 1 exams, so there is a long way to go'', she said wistfully, while she was serving me home made cake (that she had learnt to make in a baking class she had taken). I turned to the living room and saw the line of students there who had come home for taking music lessons from her. A music teacher, who traveled, baked, cooked like you wouldn't believe, took care of the household and still thought she had too much time on her hands - that was amma !

I joined amma for a walk to the park while I was home for a summer break. I went there to see a crowd of mamis who were all excited at seeing amma and after she introduced me to them, almost everyone was ''awe-struck'' because apparently my dearest amma had talked about me to them non-stop, saying how smart, kind, beautiful, nice and thoughtful I was and how lucky she was to have me as her ''daughter-in-law''.

If only they had known - she didn't know how to be a mother-in-law, she was always a mother, she never knew how else to be.....

I will miss her, every single day.

Why, amma, why ?!

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Thu, 03 Oct 2013 16:07:00 +0000

My day began like any other day. After a good breakfast and a short nap, I dressed in new clothes and got ready for my daily walk. The weather was sunny and I was happy during the stroll in the fresh air. Suddenly I realized that I was on a different route. I wondered if it was one of those spontaneous outings that seemed to happen over the weekends but before I could wonder anymore, I came to a halt and to my intense surprise, was undressed. I was then measured (I tried to cheat by stretching my legs and toes) and weighed (was I looking too chubby wearing just my diaper?).

For a while, amma was playing with me and I didn’t understand why we bothered to come all the way to play when I had a perfectly good playpen at home ! Then she introduced me to someone else who looked a lot like amma – dark curly hair, similar build and complexion. Maybe this is one of my aunts. She smiled at me sweetly and tickled me. I was laughing, I turned and looked at amma. She looked worried. I was confused, amma usually smiles when I laugh. Then the lady started massaging my legs, uhhh…that felt nice. Just as I was getting comfortable enough, I felt a sharp sting and was shocked ! I thought it would stop, but it became more and more painful and I started screeching.

I turned and looked at amma again. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I was even more confused. Why wasn’t she doing anything to stop the lady from hurting me ?! Then the pain stopped and I was beginning to relax, when I felt a sting on my other thigh. Now the pain was unbearable and I was screaming again. More tears from amma, but she still wasn’t stopping the lady. Why, amma, why ?!

Amma then hugged me with her tear stained t-shirt. I felt her warmth and it was comforting. She kissed me, patted me down my back and hugged me again, even more tightly. She then shook hands with the lady. The lady patted amma on her shoulder and said something I didn’t understand. Then I got dressed and we went home. Amma didn’t look happy, she grumbled to thatha and paati. She then called appa and grumbled again. I heard her but didn’t quite understand what she meant when she said ‘’Oh…God, what are these doctors doing in the name of vaccination, giving a one month old baby 2 big fat injections ?! Can they not with all the science and technology figure out a painless way?!’’

When I grow up, I should ask her to explain.

Finally, the beginning....

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Sat, 20 Jul 2013 08:31:00 +0000

You can read the previous posts here.

When I opened my eyes, Ashok was carrying me ((I made a mental note never to make fun of his body building again) with an extremely concerned expression . After he laid me down on the bed, he told me I fainted. I was shocked, I had never fainted before, ever. For that matter, I had never been admitted to a hospital or had IV and various things stuck to various places ! It was a day of firsts !

The nurse then explained to me that I had lost 1.7 litres of blood (women normally lose 0.4 to 0.5l during delivery) since it took a while to locate the source of the bleeding and stop it. She said it was a miracle that I actually wanted to stand up and managed to do so. The reason she let me do it was because she wanted to see how far I could manage. She gave me a couple of tablets for the pain and I slept and I slept while Ashok took care of both his girls.

In the morning, after spending time with Sahana, I was getting restless waiting for the doctor. I wanted to know when I could take our little girl and go home. When the doctor arrived, she checked me and the good news was that the tampon had successfully stopped the bleeding but the bad news was that it had to come out. If inserting it was painful, removing it was 10 times worse ! When I think about it now, I am actually immensely proud of myself and my pain threshold !

The doctor then asked me if I could stand up. After the previous night's episode, I was a little wary and when I stood up, I was relieved that everything in the room was still in focus. The relief encouraged me to slowly walk around the room. The doctor was happy. She was trying to decide if I would need a blood transfusion. As I displayed reasonable energy levels, she thought that I would do well just with an iron injection (that would help generate my own blood) instead of a blood transfusion. She only cautioned me that I would have to take a lot of rest and avoid any stress (which included taking long walks, climbing stairs etc.) in the first couple of weeks to give my body time to generate all the blood that had been lost.

A couple of hours later, after thanking everyone, we finally took Sahana and headed home.

When Ashok was fixing her car seat, I looked at him and vowed to myself that I would never again fight with him for petty things (notice the hidden disclaimer ''petty'' - how can I completely stop fighting with him....life would then be too boring :D). For all the love, care and support he gave me throughout the pregnancy, during the delivery (and now), I was (and am) immensely happy and inordinately proud to be his wife !!

Some words for wisdom for all moms and dads-to-be:

Stop trying to plan and control everything - Be it the birth plan or anything else, pregnancy and child birth come with their own load of surprises. So go with the flow. Just breathe, relax and believe that things will go well. This is especially a learning curve for when the child arrives because then things are truly out of control.

Trust your midwife and/or doctor: It is extremely important to have a midwife/doctor you completely trust. Irrespective of everyone around you, they are the medical experts whose opinion counts when its time to make a crucial decision.

Remember, pregnancy is not an illness: Just because you are pregnant, it doesn't mean you have to stay in bed all day (there are exceptional situations). You can stick to your routine as long as you are not exerting yourself too much. For example, my colleague is a runner (i.e she runs every day) and since she is used to running she ran until her 34th week ! Obviously you can't begin training for a marathon when you are pregnant, but you can continue doing what you did before, as long as your body can handle it.

Natural childbirth is preferable but keep your options open: While natural child birth without any medication or induction is definitely the way to go, have a plan B when there are complications. Look into pain medication options (there are quite a few) so that you understand the pros and cons. For example, not everyone can have epidural. One criterion is that you should not have had back problems or pain. Also not everyone reacts to the epidural the same way, for some women, the pain relief is only partial or its too late in labor for epidural to be administered.

Keep the communication loop as small as possible: While you would need support from the family, there is no need to inform every aunt, uncle and cousin that your labor has started, especially if they do not live in the same city or country as you do. This will only make them feel helpless and anxious, which would result in multiple phone calls that you neither have time nor patience to handle. For example, we only informed appa and amma after calling the midwife. Similarly we didn't inform anyone in India (including Ashok's parents) that I was in labor. Ashok only called them after Sahana was born.

Remember the value of positive energy: The more nervous you get, the more adrenaline your body produces and this inhibits oxytocin (the hormone needed for contractions), so remember your breathing exercises and do them. Listen to something you like or do something you like (read a book or watch a funny movie), recollect all the happy memories from your pregnancy and above all, remember all the good wishes from near and dear ones. There is immense power in positive thoughts !

Find the line between well-informed and ''over-informed'': Attend a maternity class or a course to understand the various terms and to be prepared, especially if you have a desi family, you might have to contend with a lot of superstitions and knowing the actual facts would help. Note that there are a lot of beliefs based on actual facts but telling them apart is not easy, if you are not well-informed. At the same time, reading every thing that Google churns out will only give you nightmares !

Keep the Dad involved: Even if you have a big family of aunts, grandmothers and a whole horde of women to help, it is always important to keep the dad involved. This not only enhances the emotional attachment between the child and the father, but it also helps keep husband and wife close. Many couples drift apart once a child arrives, because the woman is always busy with the child and the man feels left out and less loved. Remember that the grandmothers and aunts can't be around for ever, so it always helps if the dad knows how to change a diaper or sterilise a bottle !

And above all, cherish this time - pregnancy and child birth come with a load of work but also bring with them tonnes of happiness and joy and as years go by, its the happy memories that will stay with you !

With all this behind you, you then have something wonderful to look forward to - being a parent !

My more-than-perfect little one - Part III

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Mon, 15 Jul 2013 15:31:00 +0000

In case you missed the previous part, you can read it here.

I woke up, saw Ashok and wondered when I got back to my hospital room from the OR (where the epidural was administered). I was told that I had been asleep for nearly an hour. I was shocked and asked ''Does that mean I am not having any contractions at all?'', the doctor smiled and said ''No, it means the pain medication is working perfectly''.

She checked me and found out that I was 4cm dilated, still a long way off from the needed and elusive 10cm. I gave a wry smile - I had thought of a Friends epsiode (the one where Rachel has a baby), where Rachel's dilation is really slow and after nearly 24 hours when the doctor says she is 4cm dilated, Ross who has been by Rachel's side all along and is exhausted and is taking large sips of water, stops and shouts in desperation ''How can she be only 4cm dilated ? I am dilated 4cm'' ?!?

The doctor suggested giving me oxytocin intravenously. Oxytocin is generated by the body to help increase the frequency of contractions and hence dilation. Giving oxytocin via IV can make the contractions more frequent and hence, more painful. Since I was already on pain medication, the doctor wanted to take advantage of it and help speed up the dilation process. Once again, after making sure that it cannot have any negative effects on the baby, I agreed, only after shedding a few more tears (well, I am likely to blame the hormones). When I think about it now, I am glad I cried instead of being mean and rude to the people around me, like Rachel does.

Once the IV was in place, I drifted off to sleep again. 2 hours later, I woke up feeling undue pressure on my pelvic floor. I informed the nurse who was checking on me and she immediately fetched the doctor. I was nervous - was something going wrong ? The doctor came, checked me and when she said I was 10cm dilated and the pressure I was feeling was nothing but my body's way of asking me to push, I couldn't believe my own ears !! It was then 6:30pm on monday, June 24, exactly 41 hours after my first contraction.

I steeled myself to push (I was always told this was the hardest part). I pushed 4 times and at 6:42pm, our beautiful little girl was born !! She was perfect - weighed 3.54 kg and got an apgar score of 10 !! In 30 minutes, she was cleaned up, dressed and was drinking from me. And yes, the cliche is totally true - Once you hold your new-born, you forget all about labor and the pain and at that moment, nothing else matters ! And I cannot describe the happiness I felt, when smiled at us (yes, she did, on the day she was born!!)....

Even during pregnancy, I always told Ashok that if they took the baby out of the room, he was to leave me and follow the baby instead, just to know what was happening. Truthfully though, I always had this irrational fear (probably from watching too many bad movies) that the baby would get switched. I don't mind getting a different baby but my question always was ''what is the guarantee that our baby would end up with parents as nice as us?!'' and Ashok would always respond the same way ''oru payithiyatha kalyanam pannindu kashta padaren'' !!

The reason for the digression was because MMC Veldhoven made all this irrelevant. The room was completely equipped with everything needed for the baby, so she never had to leave the room and was always in my view.

Photo shows the kraamsuite (delivery room) in MMC Veldhoven. Restroom, changing table, sink/cleaning area are not shown in the picture. I was in this room throughout my stay (except when I was taken to the OR for epidural)

Seeing my little girl, all the time, definitely made things a lot easier. Sahana had happily gone to sleep.

But my ordeal was not over yet. I had only a couple of stitches and they were done long ago. But still the doctor was busy with me and I failed to understand why. Then she explained that I was still bleeding and they were unable to locate the source. After nearly 40 minutes, they determined that it was a ruptured blood vessel. Unfortunately they were unable to access the blood vessel, irrespective of using all kinds of paraphernalia. So they were contemplating whether to take me to the OR to surgically stop the bleeding.

Since any surgery comes with inherent risks, my doctor came up with another suggestion - to stop the bleeding by applying pressure on the blood vessel using a tampon (the size of a kitchen sponge, I am not kidding!). The term ''dying of pain'' suddenly became all too clear to me. I later remarked ruefully to Ashok that for all the pain, it would have been nice if we had had twins !!

I was too tired to eat, but managed to have some brown toast with jam (perfect food for labor actually, easily digested and gives a sugar boost), fed Sahana again and then after a short nap, asked the nurse if I can stand up (I had been lying down for nearly 12 hours). She helped me with all the gizmos I was attached to and I got up after what seemed like gymnastic manoeuvres. I thought standing up would make me feel better, instead I felt like the room was spinning and the next minute, everything became dark.

I promise there is just one more post on this subject. The reason I am going into detail is because I want to share some lessons learnt with moms and dads-to-be and if my story helps even one of them, I would consider these posts time well spent !

The less-than-perfect Delivery - Part II

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Sun, 14 Jul 2013 11:27:00 +0000

You can read about how it was already a week past my due date here.

In the wee hours of sunday morning (1:30 am to be precise), I had my first contraction or atleast what I thought was a contraction. I wanted to see how far apart they were to make sure it wasn't false labor, before I woke up Ashok. The contractions were nearly 30 minutes apart. So I knew I was a long away off from having the baby. So I went back to bed and ran a checklist in my head - hospital bag packed ? car seat ready ? all needed numbers saved in the phone ?

I was too excited to fall asleep, so waited until 5am, took a cold shower, wore comfortable clothes and started googling for dos and donts during labor. Ashok and I decided not to tell amma/appa anything until the contractions became more frequent. The day went on and by evening, my contractions were still 20 minutes apart. So I went to bed tired and confused.

Around 3am, the contractions became more painful and were 10 minutes apart. So I called the midwife. She came home** at 3:30am and checked to see how dilated I was. I was only 1cm dilated (it has to be 10cm before the baby can be born) but the midwife said this was good news because the process had begun. I was relieved.

She came back at 6:30am and I was 2cm dilated. She came back at 8:30am and said I was still only 2cm dilated. This was a problem.

I had already been in labor for nearly 31 hours and had not slept well for 2 nights in a row. The dilation was really slow and this meant it could easily take another 10 hours or more, until it was time to push. The midwife was worried that by then I might be exhausted and might not be able to push at all.

She looked at me and said ''I know you said you wanted no pain medication, but its time to consider epidural''.

At this point, I burst into tears and expressed all my frustration in a volley of words ''I am healthy, I did yoga, I exercised, I ate right, why is this happening to me ?!?''. My midwife calmed me down and then asked ''Do you realise that there are not many women who can take 2 sleepless nights and 31 hours of labor ? Even after all this, you did not suggest pain medication yourself - do you realise that such will power comes only from being strong physically and emotionally ?''. She then went on to explain that the speed of dilation, especially for the first delivery, varies from person to person and has no direct relation to one's health and humourously remarked ''If yoga and exercise were enough for dilation, then why would anyone go through labor !?!''

My mind was racing to remember everything I had read about the use of epidural. After having the midwife reassure me a few times that it has no side effects on the baby, I looked at Ashok with tears welling up in my eyes again. He took my hand, squeezed it and said to the midwife ''lets do it''.

2 hours later, I was admitted to the MMC Veldhoven (which incidentally is the best hospital to give birth, if you are in Eindhoven, take my word !) and was answering questions from the anesthesiologist (personal details, allergies etc.). Minutes later, the epidural was administered.

Since this post is getting longer than planned, I will save the rest of the story for the next post.

**In NL, the midwife comes home to check on the pregnant woman and only when labor is well underway, she is taken to the hospital. This is based on their belief that if the labor is long, the woman (and her family) will feel far more comfortable at home than in a hospital.

The Perfect Pregnancy - Part I

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Fri, 12 Jul 2013 12:39:00 +0000

Yes, I can truly and honestly say I had a perfect pregnancy.

I was flying the day I found out....not figuratively, literally. I flew a small aircraft (was a birthday present from my husband) and then we came home only to realise, there was another birthday surprise waiting for me.

I cannot describe the dhaam dhoom on the day I told our families....fire crackers and sweets everywhere ....again, literally, because it was Diwali !

Ashok and I finally decided to grow up and moved out of our city centre apartment (where people kept partying at all time and restaurants/cafes were just a few steps away) to a residential neighborhood and replaced our bikes with a car (well, we still have the bikes).

People kept warning me about morning sickness, food cravings, feeling tired etc. I waited but none of these came, I went about my life as usual - having fun with Ashok, work and travel.

People cautioned me against air travel. But I was in Chicago for work, in India for my baby shower and except for the slightly big tummy, I felt no difference.

I dutifully joined pregnancy yoga and even started with something new called ''dancing for birth''. Truthfully, I had more fun dancing than doing yoga. Ashok and I also started attending maternity classes and the more they told us about what would happen before and after, I was getting intrigued but not scared.

Every appointment with the midwife (in NL, a doctor is called for only when there are complications with a pregnancy) was the same - everything was normal with me and the baby was growing well.

At 21 weeks, we started shopping for the baby and planning the nursery. I was so overjoyed that Ashok had so many ideas for decorating the nursery (Like our wedding, I thought he would just leave all the creative ideas to me! But I was so glad he proved me wrong)

At 34 weeks, the ultrasound showed that the baby height and weight was above the Dutch average (and this is saying something if you know how well-built the Dutch are!) and that he/she was very active. We also created a birth plan with the midwife and I confidently said I would need no pain medication or any other medication for that matter and would prefer a completely natural child birth.

At 35 weeks, the baby's head was down (this is needed for a normal delivery).

At 36 weeks, the baby was ''engaged''. I also started my maternity leave (obligatory in NL from the 36th week). I had a great send-off at work. My boss was extremely happy that I had transitioned my projects very smoothly to my back-up.

At 37 weeks, we took my parents to Germany, to Cologne. It was my father's childhood dream to walk along the Rhein river one day and it made me feel extremely proud and happy that I was able to make that happen (Life sure take its own interesting turns - whoever knew that I would actually live only an hour from Cologne some day or was it my father's dream manifesting itself in my mind as a desire to study in Germany ?!)

At 38 weeks, we took my parents to Amsterdam. During the Amsterdam canal cruise, my amma marveled at the beauty of the Dutch architecture and their design of the city with canals and told me ''Lifela idhellam parpenu nenachu parthadhe illa....''**....I was elated....it was one of these little pleasures of life to realise that something so simple from me could give her so much joy !

At 39 weeks, we went to Ardenne, Belgium (Ardenne is a hilly forested region like the black forest in Germany) to a small and picturesque village (La Roche en Ardenne). Appa tasted his first Belgian beer there and enjoyed it immensely.

At 40 weeks, even though, appa, amma and Ashok kept looking at me for signs of labor, I displayed none. So we went to IKEA for some left-over shopping. A note (for those unaware of the pregnancy science): A normal pregnancy lasts 40 weeks, even though a baby can be born anywhere between 37 and 42 weeks.

At 41 weeks (since I was one week late) my midwife referred me to a gynaecologist to make sure that everything was normal with me and the baby. It was, in fact it was so normal that my gynaecologist was convinced that my due date estimate was wrong (it is impossible to predict when the egg was exactly fertilized, due date is approximately estimated based on the menstruation cycle and size of the baby). She also asked me if I wanted labor to be induced (In NL, a choice is given to the mother until the 42nd week about inducing labor, when there are no medical complications) and I confidently said no. I was determined to have a natural child birth.

A day later, I had my first contraction. While I was excited that I was going to see my little one soon, I was also a teensy bit upset that my perfect pregnancy was coming to an end.

Want to know if my delivery was as perfect ? I will get to that in Part II.

**Translation: I never thought I would see these things in my life.

Cheque books ? What are they ?!

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Fri, 24 Aug 2012 10:37:00 +0000

I have never had a cheque book, ever.

My first bank account was in India, naturally a joint account with my parents and they took care of everything. When I came to Germany in 2003 and opened my account, I had the wonderful world of online banking. All my expenses - rent, insurance, credit card etc. were set up in such a way that they were automatically debited from my account on specific dates every month. If I had to transfer money to anyone, I did it online. I had a debit/ATM card for everything else. All I had to do was login to my bank account once a week to make sure the transactions were correct and that I was not overdrawn.

Then came my first trip to the US in 2006 and everybody was writing everybody else cheques ! People were dropping off rent cheques, asking me to pay them in cheques and I didn't get it ! They were amazed that I didn't have a cheque book ! I was amazed that their banking system was still in ''stone age'' - I mean, writing a cheque, going to the landlord's place and giving him that in exchange of money is almost akin to the barter system.

Then I noticed, they were everywhere - Seinfeld, Raymond and Rachel were talking about them (they even made complete epsiodes with ''cheques'') and I was wondering how I missed the ''cheque wave''.

I wondered too soon because I opened a NRO account in India and got my first cheque book yesterday. I told appa about it and he went on and on about how I should ''write neatly'' (which in itself is an impossible task for someone like me who types the grocery list), ''cross'' it, make sure that my signature corresponds exactly to the ''sample'' the bank has (is that even possible ? I mean try signing twice on the same paper and see if they match exactly !) and finally make a note of the cheque number and other details before using the cheque. It sounded simpler to fly to India, meet the person in question and give him cash !

So now there is a book in my house that I would probably never use but safely store as an ''artifact'' to remember fondly that I once owned a cheque book, a never-going-to-be-used cheque book.

Power of Attorney from NRIs

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Sat, 28 Jul 2012 20:04:00 +0000

Updated on 14 Oct 2015:

A reader has pointed out in the comments section that the requirements have since changed. They can be found at - http://www.indianembassy.nl/eoi.php?id=poa

They key difference is that now witnesses from NL are required to appear with the applicant along with their ids to sign the PoA.

********************************************************************

As an NRI in the Netherlands, if you, as an Indian citizen, wish to give power of attorney (POA) to a resident in India, you need to do it at the Indian Consulate or the Embassy of India and would need the following documents:

Official POA text printed on normal paper: Please note that the format is usually provided by the bank in case of a housing loan or by a lawyer in case of property sale or registration and stamp paper is required only when the POA is executed in India
Passport and Residence card or visa
Form for consular services (usually found in the Indian embassy website)
Photocopies of all of the above
At least 2 passport size photos: You will need one for the consular services form and one for the POA
Fee

You are required to sign each page the POA in front of the consulate employee (who will then affix his signature and stamp), so do not sign anything at home. It is also prudent to carry additional documentation, for example, passport copy of the person who the POA is given to, marriage certificate especially if you are a woman etc since requirements may vary from one country to another.

NL specific (cannot comment about Indian consulates in other countries)

The website of the Indian embassy in NL hardly offers any information on POAs and neither do they answer phone calls. So you get the requirements only when you go there in person to Den Haag, so it’s better to be prepared especially if you want to avoid another trip. Please note that only passport and visa processes are outsourced (to VFS Global services) and POAs are directly dealt with by the Embassy. So neither the VFS hotline nor the VFS agents will be able to help you with this request.

Some tips and information:

First of all, any POA should only be given to a person you completely and implicitly trust like a parent or spouse. To avoid legal complications in the future, its better not to choose agents or other business associates.

Second of all, please exercise caution while giving someone general POA. It typically means the person can do ANYTHING with any of your investments and liabilities i.e. act like its his/her money and property. So if there is a specific purpose, for example sale of a particular property, then state only that in the POA. To be doubly sure, please also make sure you revoke the POA, once the job is done. Yes, it is good to have faith in people but there is no need to make it explicit with a legal document.

While drafting the POA, make sure the

format is right - I found some useful formats here
date and place of execution (in this case, Indian Embassy, The Hague) are correct
names and addresses are spelt according to the passport (or similar identification card)
space at the end of each page (easily done with custom margins in MS word) is enough for the signatures and stamp

Purchase of property

If you are availing a housing loan from a bank for purchase of property (Land or House) in India, please note that in this case, 2 POAs may be required. The first one is to be given to the bank, which will allow them to deal with a local representative. The second one, is for property registration i.e for the representative to appear in front of the Govt. Registrar to register the property in your name. Please note that the text is vastly different for the 2 POAs.

Dark knight rises and falls.....

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Mon, 23 Jul 2012 19:36:00 +0000

****SPOILER ALERT****

To me, the movie was neither as bad as the Spiderman, nor as good as the avengers (which is worth watching just for Robert Downey Junior's witty repartee). While I enjoyed all the elements that one enjoys in a Batman movie - the cool gadgets, Alfred the butler, the mass destruction (some of which is caused by batman himself) - the predictability of the script and the unnecessary length of the movie made me stifle yawns quite often.

Anyone who has read enough Sidney sheldon books and seen enough 007 movies would have predicted that Rachel is not as goody goody as she seems. I mean, why else would anyone refer to a child, as ''child'' always without once using a pronoun like ''he'' or ''she'' (sheldon fans/readers would have immediately spotted the similarity to ''Angel'' from Windmills of the Gods) ?! And why in the world, would we have another leading lady (Anne Hathway) who acts like Robin Hood - if Anne is going to be Batman's girl, then the other girl is obviously going to change sides especially after Bruce mentions 17 times that he trusts her !

When is the movie industry going to give up showing the hero's comeback with push-ups as the music reaches a crescendo ? He could have been shot, beaten to a pulp, dropped from a building and all he needs are a few push-ups to get back into the game, eh ? Yeah, yeah, we get it, you want to make the most of his fitness but get creative people !

Some reviewer said ''Hans Zimmermann could have just come to the theatre and beat us on the head with drums''...there is no better way to say it, the music was so unbelievably bad ! We already have a villain who speaks like the darth-vader and add drums to it, you might as well even stop attempting to make sense of what he is saying. Maybe its time for Hollywood to replace Hans with ARR !

All in all, if you have nothing better to do, you might as well grab a few snacks (you will definitely need them) and go watch the Dark Knight.

PS: Did you know that the prison was modeled after the wells in Rajasthan ?

My ideal lunch

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Wed, 18 Jul 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Call it an idiosyncrasy or a weird habit but my ideal lunch is having something warm to eat (and no, cold sandwich is not lunch even if my fellow Dutch strongly disagree) and something spicy to read (don’t get the wrong idea….). I always like to read something that makes me think…there is something indescribably satisfying about thinking and letting one’s imagination wander when I slowly chew and enjoy the food. It could be the usual privacy violation article about Google or a John Grisham book that I am probably reading for the umpteenth time.

I don’t have anything against a working lunch but its wraught with complications

- How is it a lunch ‘’break’’ when you continue to discuss the same topics with the same people ?

- At the cafeteria, even if I choose just soup, salad and juice and a colleague comments light heartedly ’’oh..thats a full tray’’, all my ‘’am-I-too-fat’’ sensors light up like a Christmas tree and where-o-where would I find the energy to still keep smiling and think of something to say so as to not offend him (naturally it’s a ‘’him’’) ! To add to it, why does someone who is thin and fit sit just across from me and enjoy the same dessert that I willed myself to ignore ?

- When you eat a spoonful of salad (that requires inordinate chewing), why do people always choose the exact same moment to ask you a question ? The more the person waits for an answer, the more I feel like a cow chewing its cud !! Not to mention the endless worry about bits of salad stuck between the teeth !

Given that there is hardly any time for breakfast (and I eat it while commuting to work) and dinner is preceded and succeeded by household chores, lunch is probably the only meal during weekdays that is slow paced and gives one time. I have to applaud the French here – when I was in Paris for work, lunch was atleast an hour, mostly accompanied by wine and even if its the office cafeteria, the menu was long and the food was delicious. And to top it all, no one spoke about anything but cheese and wine…..that definitely goes on the list as a pro, if I ever consider moving to France.

Losing faith in people

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 13:54:00 +0000

...is very uncharacteristic of me. I get upset with them, fight with or yell at them but I never lose faith in people I know and if they are strangers, I just grumble about them but I eventually get over it.

I recently got a gift certificate for a massage and when I reached the parlour, I was surprised that it was actually a house in a quiet residential area away from the main road and not a commercial establishment. Before I went in for my appointment, I called Ashok, gave him the address of the place and told him that if I didn’t call him back in an hour, he should call back and check with me. I went in and met an extremely friendly and professional masseuse. When I saw her I felt guilty because I hadn’t trusted her enough to not have a back-up plan. Maybe this is good practice, but to me the distrust I had about an innocent stranger made me think (and what better place to do it than a massage table!)….

I don't know if this is a part of growing up and finally facing reality but lately a lot of people are letting me down. I am inclined to blame the news (Syrian Genocide, Iran Nuclear plans, Greek debt situation and the list goes on) and the biography of Steve Jobs (there are things about him in the book that I need'nt have known) but I know its more personal than that.

I always believed in the adage that good things happen to good people. It does not mean that life is always a bed of roses but it only means that every problem that occurs paves the way for something better and in the end, everything ends well. But in the situations I have been seeing, try as hard as I might, I cannot see a silver lining. I only see people bullying those who cannot stand up for themselves or for their loved ones, I only see the good hearted ones getting hurt and being helpless. I would love to be nosy, step in and fight their battles or rather give the bullies a piece of my mind but that would only make things worse.

This is a good part to insert a disclaimer - There is nothing wrong with my life or me, nobody died but I am seeing so many problems happening to people around me that I am afraid that I am letting go of my optimism and my inherent faith in the goodness of people, albeit slowly !

One simple way would be to tune myself out for a while and not get involved in others' problems but when is running away the answer to anything ? If I cannot do what I do best i.e. talk to them, when people are in trouble, then the guilt of not being there when they need me would be overwhelming.

Oh...well...this too shall pass....until then I have to bear with myself, replace books with comics, news with funny sitcoms and look harder for ways to still cling on to the optimism and faith I have left !

Pongal Kad(a)i

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 14:27:00 +0000

After coming to Europe, I never really celebrated desi occasions like Pongal or Karthigai with the appropriate gusto because many times there was no one to share the joy (and food). Since Ashok and I started living together, I have been celebrating everything and cooking everything like crazy to make up for lost time.

Since this is our first pongal after we started living together, I had already made up my mind to celebrate it the proper way. Ashok is usually not very enthu in celebrating such occasions but he does enjoy the food. So when I asked him about the menu, he played along and said lots of ghee, cashews, whole peppercorns (for the ven pongal) and shallot (china vengayam) sambhar to go with it.

The first order of business was to find my pressure cooker which is small, almost dying, with its safety valve long gone. I had to use the cooker twice to boil the rice and dal for the Ven pongal and chakkarai pongal separately since the former is cooked with water and salt, while the latter is cooked with milk. I was worried that it was going to die any minute, but it was surprisingly robust (which is a tribute to Premier) and I even managed to shout ‘’pongalo pongal’’ (not being able to allow pongal to boil over on an induction stove is a major buzz kill…ivalum iva modern appliancesum…cha…cha..thollai thangala)

As much as I love shallot sambar, I hate to peel them - handla shallots =>eyes fulla tearu and infinite patience. Then I realized that I need the paavamana cooker again for boiling dal for the sambhar. So for the third time, the cooker cooked successfully.

After a hearty meal, when Ashok was dozing off, I called Amma and proudly narrated my accomplishments for the day. She listened and finally said – ‘’ellam seri, ana nalaiku dhane pongal’’ !!! After few seconds of shock, I remonstrated ‘’inniku 14th, eppodhum 14th dhane pongal’’…apparently the tamizh calendar decided to give me a mega bulb !$#@!%#$% by pushing pongal to 15th this year.

Mental note to self: Google for thamizh panchangam and add it to favorites

Favorite response to my comedy story (from a friend): Pongala mundiri (kottai) potiya ?!

Why kolaveri about kolaveri ?

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:50:00 +0000

If you don't know what I am talking about when I say ''Kolaveri'', then you have been off the grid ! Everyone involved in the song have been interviewed to death and they all say the same thing - we don't know why its so popular.

Yes, its a simple catchy tune, lyrics are easy to identify with and the tanglish makes you grin. But there so many songs with catchy tunes, simple lyrics and some other fun factor that never made news in BBC and Hindu ! They were not recommended by Big B is his blog, they did not bring twitter wishes from celebrities everywhere, they were not played over and over in MTV and they certainly did not have more than 17 million hits in youtube (as of today).

So what is so special about this one ? Noone can explain it.

Weirdly some people who first liked it do not anymore because they are sick and tired of the hype around it. They believe its ordinary and does not deserve this extraordinary attention its getting.

What about Jennifer Lopez's ''On the floor'' which was nothing but a fancy remix ? What about Britney spears' ''Baby one more time'' ? Granted that both these women are professional singers and put a lot more effort into their songs than Dhanush but my point is that there are so many songs that don't deserve the hype they get, so why pick on this one ? Did Javed Akhtar have anything to say about ''tai tai phiss'' or ''dhinka chikka'' ?

This is the age of text messages in place of calligraphed handwritten letters and 10 min youtube videos instead of hours of theatre. Anything simple and unexpected catches your attention and can hold it for a few minutes if it touches you emotionally and that's all there is to it.

Ponder on this if you will, I'm off....pa pa pa puan, pa pa pa puan, pa pa pa puan papa puan.....

Nocturnal Visitors and other stuff

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 14:07:00 +0000

Ashok was away on business for a couple of days and I was alone in the apartment for the first time. I’ve lived alone before but never in a large apt. So when I went to bed, I walked around checking if the doors were locked. In spite of that, I couldn’t sleep as usual (read, like a log) and kept hearing every single sound. I finally drifted off to sleep at an unknown time and then I woke up completely startled, someone was banging the front door !! It took a moment to keep my wits about me but I finally came out of the bedroom and walked to the corridor. Through the window I saw a tall guy, all dressed in black (yeah, even in the worst of time, women notice clothes) staring at the door, while another one seemed to be pounding on it.

My heart was racing as I walked closer to the door and I thought to myself ‘’what sort of a burglar pounds on the front door in the middle of the night in an apt in the city centre?”. With that confidence, my heart rate came back to normal and I started hearing a very drunken voice of a woman shouting something in Dutch. Then I knew....and I was smoke-from-ears-annoyed !!

I opened the door hoping for their own sake that they saw the smoke and walked away. And I was facing a girl with the most confused expression and a guy whose mouth was open in shock. Even as I saw their looks turn to apologetic, I still couldn’t help being irritated and I asked them why they were arousing the whole neighbourhood at 3am, knowing the answer full well. Apparently they were trying to surprise their friend (translation: they were drunk and needed a place to crash) and their dear friend is none other than my landlord, who very conveniently had forgotten to inform these noble people of his change of address ! First a cop, then drunken friends showing up in the middle of the night....hmmm....maybe we should consider moving again....

but there is a catch in it....

We moved to Eindhoven. Eindhoven becomes the smartest region in the world. Obviously there is a logical relationship here ;) :D, so we cannot move without considering the repercussions !

So what else is happening in Brainport Eindhoven ? There is an additional glow this week.

This is because of a week-long event during which there are light installations and animations in 20 different locations in the city. The city itself is used as a background and the buildings, canals, even plain walls all turn into amazing platforms for these illusions and illuminations. One of my favorites is the city hall - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTTDingHfjA

Eindhoven was heavily bombed during the war and is now just a place with skyscrapers. The city knows this and keeps constantly trying to do something fun and interesting to keep the locals and visitors engaged and me like it !

As a Dutchess...

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 10:37:00 +0000

...what I like about the 7feet-is-not-uncommon-height Dutch is that they are usually friendly, most of them are bi- or even trilingual (everyone speaks German and English besides Dutch) and they are flexible with the rules (which is a wow factor for someone used to Germany!)

…what I love are tulips, windmills, old Dutch houses, wooden shoes, canals, infrastructure for biking and their great effort to recover land from the sea and their success in keeping it !

…what I miss are mountains. The extent of high slope in the Netherlands that I have seen so far is a road with a 5 deg slope (which ironically is always called the Bergstraat or mountain street)

…what confuses me is their take on sex and drugs – if it’s out there in the open, then the temptation is far less than if its hidden and prohibited. Surprisingly this works, there are coffeeshops (not for coffee but for licensed sale of drugs – mind you, only soft drugs) even close to my place and not once have I seen any junkies or misdemeanors of any kind. People are even allowed to grow their own drugs and can have up to 5 plants in the house ! But what they forget is that this logic applies only to residents and not to tourists who when given this ‘’newly-found’’ freedom go crazy and cause all the trouble. Not to mention having to put up with the jokes from the rest of the world about ‘’everyone being in a drug haze’ in Amsterdam !

While I was watching a movie that I thought was pretty much in the sex-and-the-city-genre, I was surprised to find a bunch of girls who looked no older than 13 or 14 seated in the row behind me. Then I learnt that the movie was rated 12 yrs and above !! In spite of that, every time there was an adults-only joke, I couldn’t laugh and couldn’t help but hope that they didn’t understand it.

…what I find mysterious is that Netherlands is never in the news….and I have been checking both CNN and BBC diligently ever since I moved here and not one word of news about the country…I know its small but how can there be no news given that its one of the stable economies in EU ??!

…what I was not prepared for was the population density (the average is actually much higher than the average density in India!!). After having lived in western Germany for more than 8 years, where an overcrowded train is an once-in-a-bluemoon (read, worldcup football season) occurrence, its hard to get used to the always-crowded and not to mention, lower-quality Dutch trains.

We live right smack in the city centre and going for a walk without someone crossing your path is impossible on any day of the week between 8am and 6pm. People are always shopping, even on weekdays ! Now I know why the shops close at 6pm – to let the residents have some peace and quiet in the evenings !

Cycling during peak hours can actually kill you if you are not used to dodging-the-indian-traffic-antics. People on bikes usually fly and it’s almost like driving alongside a Porsche on the autobahn, which you know will overtake you on the wrong side.

…what amazes me and sometimes totally freaks me out is the average fitness level. Pregnant women are so strong that most of them give birth at home with just their partner’s help (they have a home pregnancy kit..seriously!) and they are up and about the next day ! Rowing, biking, marathon teams are everywhere and this is saying something given that the Dutch weather is worse than the English weather !

…what scares me are the stairs in most Dutch houses (or correctly known as death traps) – they are curved and spiral, narrow and dark – all the elements that actually make sure you trip or in the least, drop something you are carrying! It was one of my criteria when we started house hunting – no Dutch stairs. There is no way I am going to destroy the last few grey cells I have just because the living room and bedrooms are on different floors.

…what I am struggling with is speaking Dutch. Knowing German and English, I can read and understand Dutch to a large extent but listening and speaking is a totally different ball game.

… what I find funny:

Bicycle parking areas - We live in a building with 12 apartments with a max. of 24 people and there at least 50 bikes ! The picture below shows the parking area at the station. If you don’t remember where you parked yours…hmm…well…walk !

At least once a week, some shady looking guy tries to sell me an obviously-stolen bike !

The Dutch drink milk during lunch..every day ! Not kids, all of them !

They will die without Hagelslag (a form of chocolate chips that they put on bread) and biking.

They say Blah-di-blah instead of (what-I-thought-was-conventional) blah-blah-blah; every time I hear it, I have to suppress a grin because to me it sounds like Koundamani saying ‘’bloody’’ in a thick accent.

And finally, what I am looking forward to is to be able to embrace Netherlands quickly as my ‘’second home’’ and explore/enjoy the best and deal with the worst of it.

Homeless in Holland - Part II

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 16:49:00 +0000

If you missed Part I, you can find it here.....

I stepped off the train and thought to myself ''Here I am, Netherlands'' and Ashok says ''We are homeless!''

The flooring/painting job in the apartment we had rented was not even close to completion and we were told it would take atleast 3 more days. And our stuff from Munich was already on its way in a truck and would arrive the following day. Well, we did consider staying at the train station with a laptop table and microwave with a true Tom Hanks spirit but there was this little thing called ''going to work''. After we made it clear that we will not impose on friends or pay for own hotel for their lack of planning, we were given a temporary place to stay.

We made our peace with it, survived on bread/cereal/salads/take-out and went shopping for clothes (we only had spare clothes for a day). But there was a silver lining, atleast for me - since I wasn't due to join work for a while, I got a chance to explore the beautiful town, Den Bosch(that's another post though). On the third day, we were finally ready to leave and the phone rang again and by then, I was slowly beginning to hate the ring tone. I had good reason to do so - they would need one more week to complete the job !

Ashok and I took one look at each other and said we needed another apt. We were not prepared to reschedule/replan anymore. Already our goods from Munich were stored in a warehouse and I was sure my balcony plants were already dead without sunlight and water. We were told that there were no more apartments available in Den Bosch but there was one in Eindhoven that suited our requirements. We took one look at the apt, fell in love with it, nodded and moved in right on time for Ashok's b'day. That gave us an excuse to replace the traditional pal-kachufying with apple pie :D !

I would love to say all's well that ends well but there is more to come....

The apt was in a perfect location, had a great balcony and some tasteful pieces of furniture but there were no wardrobes and no sign that it ever had one. So where did the previous occupant keep all his stuff ? The apt has an intercom with a camera that allows one to see who is ringing the bell before buzzing them in. The day after we moved in, I was sitting in the balcony trying to speak Dutch without spitting (its really hard, by the way) when someone rang the bell. I looked at the intercom and its a cop !

I warily opened the door and asked him for his id first. He said he was looking for our landlord and while my heart was racing thinking of numerous law and order episodes that I wish I hadn't seen, I tried to outwardly remain calm and explained to him that we rented this apt and he doesn't live here any more. He asked me for his existing contact info and I got into defensive mode (living in Germany for 8 yrs makes all ''privacy invasion'' alarm bells go on when you are asked for someone else's contact info). Then he explained to me that our landlord was a victim in a crime and the police wanted some more information from him...phew, now why didn't he explain this right away and what-oh-what was the crime ?! Since he didn't give me any more answers and I couldn't deal with my imagination, I decided to worry about this when I have to (read, re-check our insurance policies).

The movers brought all our stuff the next day. After realizing that it was faster for me to arrange my own clothes than to explain to someone else how it should be arranged, I asked the movers to just assemble the furniture and leave. The first box I wanted to unpack was my electronics - I had shipped everything except my precious back-up external hard drive. I figured that if they lost my laptop, I atleast had a back-up and the latter was lighter to lug around. It turned out this was genius since my laptop really was missing ! It wasn't inside the box with other electronic items. The movers and I searched all the boxes and it was still missing. All they could do was give me a form to claim the insured value. But what was I to do at home without my laptop ?

After spending a couple of days going around the town (how long can you really shop?) and trying at-home Dutch lessons, I decided to do what I rarely did - scrub and clean everything (I had to do something to while away the time). I opened the box with cleaning supplies and something stood out under the dishwasher tablets and glass cleaner, so I dug in further and my hands felt the familiar edges of my beloved laptop...yippee !! Now who in the world packs a laptop with cleaning supplies ?!? I agree I hadn't cleaned the keyboard and screen in a while but that still wasn't an excuse.

Our relocation experience was like watching the movie race; there was a climax at every step ! We expected something, then it took a pretty hard left turn, then we replanned and took another U-turn...and...and....we ended up in a different town and apartment....and we love the place....it took us a while to turn the house into a home but now it is...we are home, sweet home :) !

PS: My plants made it too :D !

Homeless in Holland - Part I

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 19:20:00 +0000

It all started when Ashok and I got jobs in the same place (more or less, adjacent towns can be considered the same place when its the Netherlands, henceforth known as NL). Since both of us moved from Germany, the companies helped with the relocation (i.e. they pay a firm to help us find a house and tranport our things). We had only 2 criteria:

- should be walking distance from the station/city centre (living in the quiet outskirts will absolutely drive me mad)

- should not have the freaky dutch staircase (you have to watch the video to understand this requirement of mine) and there is no way I'm losing the last of my grey cells just because the living room and bedrooms are on different floors !

With these in mind, we flew to NL. Since our wants were simple, we found an apt we liked and we were given the option to rent it with the furniture. Given that we were in a long-distance relationship and had ''consciously'' chosen a lifestyle where we would blow all our money on travel, we only had the absolutely necessary furniture (read cot, laptop table and microwave :D) and we liked the idea of moving into a furnished apt and sparing ourselves the numerous trips to IKEA and numerous days with tools while getting used to a new place and job. So we happily said yes, discussed the terms and they (god-)promised to send us the lease asap.

I got home, started on the paperwork (change of address at every place from the bank to the miles and more card) and auctioned my furniture on ebay. Amidst exciting bidding wars, I received some bad, bad news. Apparently the landlord woke up that morning, decided that he was going to sell the apartment (in a buyer's market!!) instead of renting it, which meant we were exactly back to where we started !

Since I couldn't afford another day off, Ashok went house-hunting and canon/picasa served as my eyes (I know, I know it should have been iPhone and email but Ashok is just not a mobile-browser person...atleast not yet!) and we found only one place we liked and the caveat - it was completely unfurnished - the ad actually read ''flooring and painting on request'' !

While Ashok was negotiating a deadline for the flooring and painting, I undid the paperwork I had done, took my items off ebay and contacted the highest bidders with my story. I am glad that they all empathised with me and I got off without bad reviews...phew...the things one has to do to protect one's e-image !

The movers and packers were scheduled to arrive on thursday morning and after handing over the apt in Munich, we were to take the night train to NL. We felt we deserved to stretch and sleep on nice beds and have a proper breakfast instead of sitting in cramped economy seats with airline food ! Its 11 am on thursday and it does not bode well when your phone rings instead of the doorbell. Apparently (I am sick of this word, any synonyms ?) their previous assignment was delayed due to an accident and the earliest they can arrive is the next morning !

Ashok still had to take the night train since he had to report for work the next day. This means I got a quick tutorial on how to fill holes in the wall (caused by nails) with plaster and paint over them after the place was emptied by the movers. For those who do not know my handwriting and my grades in arts and crafts, trust me when I tell you that this was no mean feat !

To make up for the previous day, the movers arrived bright and early at 7:30am, when I was still seeing green and red spots everywhere. So I began what I knew was going to be a really long day, with no breakfast. The movers were 2 young dutch guys with minimal understanding of English...which again seemed like Murphy's law given that most of the Dutch speak both English and German ! They just packed everything....based on what room it was in....so books, cutlery, pillows all went into the same cartons just because they were there in the living room. And while I was showing one guy the basement, the other efficiently packed the trash in the kitchen (not trash bins, just plain trash!). After setting some ground rules, it was a little better and after 6 hrs, they were done but I wasn't and wouldn't be until the plastering, painting, dusting and scrubbing were done. When I finally handed over the key and got to the station, the night train was sold out. So I took a train to stay with some friends who live close to the border (God bless them!) and slept like a log all the way through.

I arrived in NL the next evening, after having a good lazy day with my friends and one look at Ashok when I got off the train was enough to tell me that something was very wrong.....

to be continued....

Am I a desi version of German ?

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 11:28:00 +0000

A few days ago (actually months), I was pondering if life in Germany was making me more German every day. But I also realized...

....I need some noise in my life, I find quietness unsettling. If its too quiet, I have a compelling need to make the noise myself :D

....I need some spice in my life, in the food and otherwise (mind you, I am not a ‘’cho chweet’’ saying girl).

....I need some color in my life. Even in winter, I cannot stand wearing grey and black all the time. From bright red to parrot green, I can wear any color and feel cheerful about it.

....I have to speak Thamizh at least once a day (sometimes when there is no one who speaks Thamizh, I just speak to myself...but lets not go there now..rolling eyes).

....I need to do something when I go to the beach –explore, swim, snorkel, whatever, I cannot simply lie on the beach under the sun.

....I need to use my hands to eat Indian food (there is nothing to beat the sense of touch...obviously doesn't work with Spaghetti but since when is this Indian ?)

....I think French cuisine is way overrated. I feel the same way about Michelin star restaurants where the presentation is always great but the flavor and quantity aren’t !

....I have to watch atleast one movie a week and no it’s not a documentary!

and above all,

....I hate beer, can't drink it to save my life.

....I cannot swear in German.

So am I now like the dishes served in Indian restaurants in Munich – essentially desi but toned down to fit the locale ?!

I decided the best thing to do was to ‘’mix it up even more’’. So I packed my bags, said Goodbye to Germany and moved...well, just across the border to the Netherlands.

PS: As you can see, I had to give an excuse for not having blogged for 2 months….don’t you think moving to new country qualifies as one :D ?

Am I a German ?

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 10:12:00 +0000

I do not smile at strangers.

I prefer not to have people in adjacent seats in buses or trains.

Even if there were people next to me, I prefer to read a book or use my ipod when I travel than talking to them.

I do not really know my neighbours.

I look at deadlines and/or appointments like they are written in stone.

I get extremely annoyed when people arrive a few minutes late, esp. in official situations.

I replace ‘s’ with ‘shh’ many times in English words.

I can explain driving rules and names of road signs only in German.

I prefer and drive only German cars.

I complain about the cost of getting a driver's license here.

I have a ‘Dirndl’.

I do not like McD, Burger King and anything on that list.

I answer the phone by saying my name and not ‘Hello’.

I talk about the weather at least once every day.

I go to Southern Europe (Italy, Spain, Greece etc.) for vacation many times.

I am not reachable for work-related emergencies when I am on vacation or during the weekend.

I do not have a TV at home.

I organize and file my paperwork regularly.

I eat dinner at 7pm everyday.

I never shop or think about shopping on Sundays.

I think of distances purely in metres - if someone asks how far is the bank, I would say 400m instead of ‘5 min from here’ .

I love maps.

I never go on a tour without an audio guide, if one is available.

I complain about taxes but file them meticulously and on time.

to be continued.....

Disclaimer: This post is not intended to offend Germans, after having lived here for 8.5 years, I have to come to regard Germany as my home away from home.

An ode to Sowmya....

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 12:10:00 +0000

....was written on a paper that I came across today. Well, let me rewind to 15 minutes ago......

I was turning the house upside down to find an important paper for filing our 2010 taxes. The paper was related to Ashok's work and although he insisted that he gave it to me, I couldn't find it with the rest of the paperwork and I had already spent 2 hours going through everything I had. So as a final resort, I went for the ''document bag''. The so-called document bag belongs to Ashok, where he meticulously saves everything from credit card bills to receipts to tax documents year-wise and I have strict instructions not to mess with it.

I figured (like all women...rolling eyes) that as long as I was careful in placing everything like it was stored, there is no harm in checking if the paper was in it. After a few minutes, I came across a bunch of train tickets (thanks to our long distance relationship) and I was just about to move to the next section when I noticed the word ''ode'' and ''mya'' in Ashok's calligraphic handwriting. I pondered just for a few seconds before curiousity overwhelmed me and I was rapidly drawing it out of the bunch.

A quick detour - I am not a fan of poetry, especially those that compare a girl to a flower or a moon. I am not against romance, its just that I like it with a pinch of reality. I find coming home to a warm meal (surprise dinner) after a long day at work more romantic than getting a bunch of roses while at work. I would consider the former comforting, caring and thoughtful and the latter, a nice thought but an unnecessary public display and a waste of money.

Back to the ode - It was on the back of a used train ticket (which is usually an A4 print-out) and it looked like he started writing it to while away the time during the journey. Although I started reading it with a mischievous grin (while I was mentally planning on how to make fun of him!), I had tears streaming down my cheeks when I finished it, with a rush of affection for him (while I was mentally cursing the project deadline that kept him away this weekend).

The ode was simple, cute, extremely well-written with a reminder of how well he knows me and has noticed all my little quirks - some of them lovable, some of them annoying and yet funny. It wasn't blatant flattery but it was like seeing our whole life together on a piece of paper.....I loved it and will treasure it for as long as I live.

We have known each other for 10 years and have been married for 4.5 years and if after all this time, and amidst his hectic schedule, he still finds to write something like this (and feels shy enough to hide it in his ''document bag'') I should consider myself truly blessed :) !

PS: Now one of 2 things is going to happen - he is going to see my blog or someone who sees it is going to tell him. Either way, I am going to get an earful for touching the ''document bag''...well, I deserve it :D !

PPS: I had second thoughts about writing this blog but I told myself - The ode is personal, I wouldn't dream of sharing it with anyone else but the happiness and fierce pride that comes with it is meant to be shared :) !

PPPS: Oh..my, I still haven't found the paper that started it all....

Scorching Summer in Germany....

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 12:16:00 +0000

...is what one would assume if you look at the below given picture greeting you in wetter.de

Well, the maximum temperature today is 27 deg C (and this lasts for 3 hours after which the temperature drops to a comfortable 23 or 24 deg C) and to someone used to the Agni Natchathiram* in Chennai and Aandhi** in Delhi, this is really amusing (read, iva podara scene thangala) !

On the other hand though, when this picture turns all blue, thats a real cause for worry...brrrrr....

And finally, I cannot believe I talk about the weather and only the weather in a blog post....note to self: finish incomplete travelogues if you want to retain at least half of your reader base !

* Agni natchathiram refers to the hottest month in Tamilnadu (May)

** Aandhi refers to the dust storm

Whitewashing 4000 years of history ?!?

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 08:43:00 +0000

I was both outraged and upset when I read the article in “The Hindu” about how 4000 years of history and art are treated in India especially after seeing all the efforts the western world puts into preserving its history, which are most of the times only a few hundred years old.

An excerpt from the article (if the link becomes obsolete in a few days) - “There are more than 50 temples in Tamil Nadu, which have exquisite murals of the Pallava, the Chola, the Nayak and the Maratha periods. A couple of palaces - the Ramalinga Vilas at Ramanathapuram and the Padmanabhapuram Palace in Kanyakumari district too have murals.

At the centre of destruction of murals in temples are the HR and CE officials**. They have not only whitewashed murals in many temples but continue to sandblast sculptures and inscriptions, disfiguring them. In the name of renovation and kumbabhishekam, the HR and CE officials have fully or partially whitewashed, out of existence, beautiful murals in the Pundarikaksha Perumal temple, Tiruvellarai, near Tiruchi, the ‘Tiruvilayadal Puranam' murals in the Meenakshi temple at Madurai, the Kallazhagar temple at Azhagarkoil, near Madurai”.

When I looked at the whitewashed walls, I died a little! How can anyone in their right minds do this?? I can understand the lack of funds for doing a full-fledged renovation of the murals but painting over them with low cost lime paints is nothing short of defacing them on purpose.

The only reason I always hear is that preserving art and history takes a backseat in a country where people are struggling for the basic amenities of life like food and shelter. Agreed. It is a huge problem but does that mean that future generations learn and see nothing of our past and our rich cultural heritage? Do we just want to be a country of skyscrapers and people in the next century?

Any time I see a historical artifact from India in a museum elsewhere (say in the UK or Germany), I would reflect for a moment in how and when it was acquired and in most cases it was not a gift from an Indian emperor but just the result of Colonialization and shameless plundering. When I now compare how such artifacts are treated within and outside India, it makes me wonder whether they are better off away from home…..

I understand there is no point in just grumbling without doing something about it. I jotted down my thoughts here

Choose temples in their historical order of importance (targeting those that have not yet been affected by this mindless renovation) and issue a ban on implementing renovation without a 90 day notice period and an explicit approval from historians who specialize in that era
Task students studying art and history to research the restoration techniques and if possible, the costs involved and create a report for each of the categories like pallava murals, chola frescoes etc.
The reports can be used to approach the Govt. or organizations that work towards restoring temples and/or other monuments and can also be used in contacting UNESCO heritage programme to see if any funds could be allocated for these purposes
If there is an NPO that people can rely on, it will definitely bring in funds from within India and outside. I would gladly give 1% of my salary every year to this cause.
Above all, it is of extreme importance to make sure that this is not projected as a religious issue because it isn’t. I would not have been any less concerned about the destruction of such historical sites if I had been a Christian or a Muslim and I am sure plenty of Indians would agree with me

I understand fully that it might take decades before any of the above are implemented with a big “if” in the front but it hurts a lot more to not even try ! I have sent this blog post to “The Hindu” as well hoping that I am one among many who feel the same way and our combined efforts will take us a little bit forward.

I would appreciate any comments or suggestions from the readers for eg: information on such organizations if they already exist.

**HR and CE officials = Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowment Department officials

Keep track of your sins…

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Wed, 25 May 2011 15:32:00 +0000

...with an iPhone app, appropriately named Confession**. I accidentally came across the app and some of the listed features:

- Ability to add sins not listed in standard examination of conscience

- Confession walkthrough including time of last confession in days, weeks, months, and years

- Choose from 7 different acts of contrition

Well…there is at least one app that will not interface with facebook and twitter..atleast not until location based advertising finds a way to monetize people’s sins !

What can you do with an old vacuum cleaner?

You can make it Einstein’s tongue, if you are creative !! You should be able to spot the other interesting "junk" if you click on the picture for the larger version.

Puzzler of the week: Dairy products cause cancer ??

…should rephrase…they increase the probability of cancer, according to a recent forward I got. As always, I googled totally expecting it to be one of those useless rumors that travels around the e-world in a jiffy (I pity those that create these forwards….if only they had a charming friend like me ;) :D) and was shocked to learn that it may be true.

Although studies have gone both ways and research is still being carried out, most of them incline towards accepting this premise as a fact. Almost all of them point to the Chinese, who apparently stay away from all kinds of dairy products, who have a really low rate of cancer when compared to those in the Europe and the US.

Has someone bothered checking out Indians, who live and breathe dairy products? If Indians had a much higher rate of Cancer or at least something comparable to the western world, I would slowly become a believer. However, if they do not, then I would believe that it would just link to all the artificial things that are done to the milk production (pumping it up with hormones and what not) here that’s the culprit. I have been used to fresh milk in India even though we later switched to Aavin but I still hold firmly that both milk and yoghurt taste weird in the western world (you can’t even go to the disaster that is buttermilk – God bless the Turkish for their Ayran that helps me survive in Germany) !

Given that I already know 3 Indians – all women – who suffer/suffered from cancer and that only one of them survives, I should say its not looking good……are the days of milk and paneer going to be replaced with soymilk and tofu?

Some say women should be careful about soy intake – so now, researchers, make up your mind, what can we actually eat??

** The article is not intended to offend Catholics or the concept of Confessional.

Copyright: The picture in from the KLM flight magazine and is the work of French artist, Bernard Pras

What happens when...

noreply@blogger.com (Sowmya Gopal) — Mon, 16 May 2011 12:34:00 +0000

...2 people with very different tastes are stuck at home on a rainy sunday with just one laptop ?!?

...split screen technology :D

Necessity is indeed the mother of invention !