In June 1998, I moved from New Delhi, India to America -irrevocably separating myself from my mother, uncles, aunts, friends and cousins. Since then, life has been a finely balanced act of blending the present with the distant. I discovered fairly quickly it’s easy as a customary weekly phone call – and yet as painful as an awkwardly silent phone line. It’s about realizing that a loved one’s life can and does move on without you, but it’s beautiful and important to be an audience to that change. It’s about sharing the responsibility of communication and not retreating into wounded silence if someone forgets your birthday. It’s about believing you are missed - even without the certainty of a physical hug or the reassurance of a loving look.
So, armed as I was with these brilliant insights and experience, you would think being away from my then-boyfriend and now- husband - would have been a breeze. Hah!
We met as graduate students in University of Florida, in 1999. A year-long separation occurred when he got a job in Chandler, Arizona and I got one in Princeton, New Jersey. Our time apart was fraught with tensions and tears. While I cannot recall any specific incident that rocked our relationship to the core, that year remains a not-so -pleasant blur of nagging arguments, unspoken fears and gut-wrenching farewells. A missed or delayed phone call would whip me into cold fury; a terse tone was interpreted as indifference; any sign of pre-occupation was attributed to fading interest; waving goodbye at the end of a stolen weekend would reduce me to weeping hysteria……the list can go on. You get the picture. Thankfully, the ordeal ended soon enough. We got married and I moved to Arizona. And lo! And behold! I was transformed!
But I often wonder. What was so different about this relationship that I could not nurture it from a distance like I do so many others? How is it that we remain peacefully in love with our parents, siblings, children and friends even after years of separation- but flounder hopelessly within days of separating from our husbands, boyfriends or partners? Is it that this manifestation of love is deeply grounded in physical intimacy? Or is it that the distance demands loyalty and morality beyond human endurance? Or is it simply that boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives are far more easily replaced than sisters, mothers, fathers or sons? If the last is true, then was it fear that spurred my actions? Did I fear rejection? Did I dread being left behind as his life raced on? I don’t know… I don’t have answers…. just quick silver questions stoking my conscience.
But I do have hope. I hope that after all these ruminations, if I am ever tested again, I will finally accord this relationship the same faith and grace I have offered to all other long distance relationships in my life. I hope so for me- and you.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Do I?
Lazy, exacting, judgemental, cloying, unpleasant, unforgiving.
Do I like you?
Hell - NO!!!!!!!!
Do I like you?
Hell - NO!!!!!!!!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Vaidehi (published in Savadati)
I enter our apartment and toss my keys down on the elephant-shaped side table. I have just dropped off Vaidehi at the San Francisco International airport. I pour my customary glass of scotch and let myself out onto the front deck. The apartment is unbearable.
Vaidehi and I met twenty-two years ago. It was a chance meeting in a coffee shop. I was reading Virgina Woolf, she stopped to comment on it - and stayed chatting for three hours. She was a first-year undergrad in Berkely, California. I was a Doctoral student. She was so utterly beautiful! Her eyes alight with smiles. Her long dark brown hair silkier than sweating coffee beans. It was all I could do to not stare hungrily. Suddenly, half-rising, she had kissed me full on my lips. I was shocked. Certainly not what I had expected from an undergrad clad in a demure salwar kameez, with a pink bindi to boot! She had smiled back at me with wicked delight. And that was the start of our relationship. The first of many instances when Vaidehi would gracefully flex my perceptions.
We became inseparable - an official couple on campus. Born and brought up in Berkeley, I was completely at home. But she hailed from Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. An only child of fairly well-to-do parents, she had been entrusted to a family friend (also a senior in her department) and sent abroad for higher studies. Needless to say, by now she was not on speaking terms with that friend - or with most of her Indian friends for that matter. She must have suffered countless jokes and jeers. I say ‘must have’ because I never heard about them. She flicked them all off with a toss of her long hair.
Informing our parents was solely Vaidehi’s idea. I did not see the need.
She first sent a letter to her mother and father. It sank wordlessly into the enormous void separating them. She then tried calling repeatedly; repeatedly they left her calls unanswered. Finally, her father sent an e-mail - she must leave me and Berkeley, return home and marry her uncle’s son in Hyderabad; otherwise she would be ostracized. That is the only time I ever saw her falter. It was as fast as two rapid blinks of her moist brown eyes and then she resolved things with typical passionate logic. Had he only asked her to leave me, she could have forgiven him that. But his remaining conditions were beyond forbearance.
Next we tried my parents. They lived in Palo Alto. Both were professors of modern literature at Stanford. She was delighted when in answer to our e-mail, they invited us over to dinner.
But I was filled with dread.
We dined with them on a crisp Saturday evening in October. I dressed in my usual black jeans and shirt. But Vaidehi chose a light green chiffon saree. Her hair lay open, swaying lithely when she walked. She added a slim gold chain, small gold studs and one gold bangle. She looked impossibly delicious.
As soon as we entered my house, she touched my parents’ feet. She smiled at my father and thanked him for having us over. Then with unflappable calm she linked arms with my mother and sashayed off to the kitchen. Soon we could hear gentle giggles assaying from within. My father and I stared at the floor in awkward silence. My parents had not known what to make of me for a long time. For my part, I had spent considerable energy snubbing them into silence. Yet there we were, watching my girlfriend woo my mother. Seeking approval…even acceptance. The evening climaxed when Vaidehi acknowledged that understandably our relationship must have been a shock, but we hoped they would accept us and let us be one family. Mr. and Mrs. Chakraborty, my distinguished parents, positively beamed us out of the room with their smiles. I drove home furious. “You gave in! You showed me down!” I kept shouting at her over and over again. “No” she said, serenely confident. “Sometimes it’s ok to give in.”
And so the years passed. I earned my Doctoral degree in Child Psychology and was offered a teaching post at a community college. Vaidehi also completed her Bachelors then Masters in Information Management and Systems. We settled into jobs and life was replete with everyday cares.
It was around this time that Vaidehi started chatting with a young Indian woman, Shivani, who had moved into the apartment below us. Shivani was a Journalism student by day and a waitress by night. It took us two months to realize Shivani was pregnant. And another two months to realize she was painfully alone.
I watched with silent anxiety as Vaidehi became increasingly attached to Shivani. We were childless. A fact that Vaidehi and I had accepted. But now I worried Vaidehi was pouring her expectations into Shivani’s womb. Sure enough, Shivani offered us her baby the minute he was born. I was aghast. But a look of utter understanding passed between Shivani and Vaidehi. Neither was doing any favors. Shivani had no means of supporting the baby. (She had separated from an abusive boyfriend). Vaidehi was only too delighted to accept the baby. However, none of us wanted to go through the red tape of an actual adoption. So we worked out an informal arrangement by which Shivani stayed around to sign off on official documents etc. But the baby, Kedar, lived with us. Vaidehi devoted herself to being a mother. At first I mocked her, and then humbled, I allowed myself to be sucked in as well. Soon the three of us were family.
One day, about six months later, out of the blue, Vaidehi got it in her head that if she could just get her parents to see Kedar, things would fall in place. I felt motherhood had softened her. Hmph! I scoffed. But then I remembered sometimes it’s ok to give in.
So we flew to Hyderabad; all four of us- Shivani, me, Kedar and Vaidehi. Of course we were greeted by a silent, locked door. We sat in front of that door the whole day. Finally Vaidehi shuffled to her feet. I wanted to tear down that door and shoot them all.
And that’s when we realized Kedar had fever.
Stifling our guilt, we rushed to the R___ L___ hospital. At the entrance I grabbed a registration form and started filling it out. I was brought up short at the second line itself. It asked for the father’s name. Point blank. There was no option for “mother” or “guardian”. I crossed out ‘father’, wrote in ‘mother’ and after a slight pause filled in Shivani’s name. I quickly filled out the rest of the form and handed it in. A red pen ran down the form and made a big circle around Shivani’s name. We don’t need mother’s name here, said a masculine voice. We need father’s name. But he does not live with us, he does not even know the baby, I explained. Never mind, came the retort in impatient tones. The baby has a father right? Give me his name…..and the pen hovered over the form. Did I imagine the mockery in the voice? I opened my mouth to argue, when someone intercepted. It was Vaidehi. “Sir” she clipped, “this baby needs help. Get him help now. His father does not care if he lives or dies, and you want his name over his mother’s who carried him for 9 months? How about we put in your name- how about that?”
I stepped aside and watched the fireworks. Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned! The poor man stood no chance. He retreated and fetched his manager – who was also lambasted by Vaidehi. The manager now rushed to get his senior manager. Oh boy! We really raised a stink that day! It was the four of us ranged against a veritable army of pot-bellied, pompous old men. Finally a senior doctor suggested we could write the father’s name and the mother’s name. His suggestion was greeted with a great roar of approval - clearly everyone was impressed by his brilliance. We finally gave up.
But I remember a nurse who smiled and stuck her thumb up at me, signaling victory. I also remember my sadness at her gesture.
In the end, it turned out Kedar only had a minor heat stroke. Much relieved, we cut our trip short and returned home.
My world has turned many times since. Memories cartwheel around my head like tumbleweeds……
Vaidehi cheering at Shivani’s graduation, Vaidehi puzzling over Kedar’s assignments, Vaidehi beaming at an unexpected promotion, Vaidehi laughing at my first (and only) attempt at wearing a saree, Vaidehi marching to protest the Iraq war, Vaidehi buying a hand fan to celebrate my first hot flash, Vaidehi accepting Shivani’s move to Boston, Vaidehi quietly acquiescing when Kedar followed suit.
And more recently- Vaidehi stunned to receive a call from her newly widowed mother… Vaidehi disappointed by my cold silences…Vaidehi sobbing quietly in bed last night……
And finally, Vaidehi departing for India today.... without a backward glance.....
Draining my glass, I come back in and start my laptop. I pull up the screen for Singapore Airlines and click on the tab ‘flights and fares’.
Departure city: San Francisco. Destination city: Hyderabad.
It’s time to let my world turn again. Sometimes it’s ok to give in.
Vaidehi and I met twenty-two years ago. It was a chance meeting in a coffee shop. I was reading Virgina Woolf, she stopped to comment on it - and stayed chatting for three hours. She was a first-year undergrad in Berkely, California. I was a Doctoral student. She was so utterly beautiful! Her eyes alight with smiles. Her long dark brown hair silkier than sweating coffee beans. It was all I could do to not stare hungrily. Suddenly, half-rising, she had kissed me full on my lips. I was shocked. Certainly not what I had expected from an undergrad clad in a demure salwar kameez, with a pink bindi to boot! She had smiled back at me with wicked delight. And that was the start of our relationship. The first of many instances when Vaidehi would gracefully flex my perceptions.
We became inseparable - an official couple on campus. Born and brought up in Berkeley, I was completely at home. But she hailed from Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. An only child of fairly well-to-do parents, she had been entrusted to a family friend (also a senior in her department) and sent abroad for higher studies. Needless to say, by now she was not on speaking terms with that friend - or with most of her Indian friends for that matter. She must have suffered countless jokes and jeers. I say ‘must have’ because I never heard about them. She flicked them all off with a toss of her long hair.
Informing our parents was solely Vaidehi’s idea. I did not see the need.
She first sent a letter to her mother and father. It sank wordlessly into the enormous void separating them. She then tried calling repeatedly; repeatedly they left her calls unanswered. Finally, her father sent an e-mail - she must leave me and Berkeley, return home and marry her uncle’s son in Hyderabad; otherwise she would be ostracized. That is the only time I ever saw her falter. It was as fast as two rapid blinks of her moist brown eyes and then she resolved things with typical passionate logic. Had he only asked her to leave me, she could have forgiven him that. But his remaining conditions were beyond forbearance.
Next we tried my parents. They lived in Palo Alto. Both were professors of modern literature at Stanford. She was delighted when in answer to our e-mail, they invited us over to dinner.
But I was filled with dread.
We dined with them on a crisp Saturday evening in October. I dressed in my usual black jeans and shirt. But Vaidehi chose a light green chiffon saree. Her hair lay open, swaying lithely when she walked. She added a slim gold chain, small gold studs and one gold bangle. She looked impossibly delicious.
As soon as we entered my house, she touched my parents’ feet. She smiled at my father and thanked him for having us over. Then with unflappable calm she linked arms with my mother and sashayed off to the kitchen. Soon we could hear gentle giggles assaying from within. My father and I stared at the floor in awkward silence. My parents had not known what to make of me for a long time. For my part, I had spent considerable energy snubbing them into silence. Yet there we were, watching my girlfriend woo my mother. Seeking approval…even acceptance. The evening climaxed when Vaidehi acknowledged that understandably our relationship must have been a shock, but we hoped they would accept us and let us be one family. Mr. and Mrs. Chakraborty, my distinguished parents, positively beamed us out of the room with their smiles. I drove home furious. “You gave in! You showed me down!” I kept shouting at her over and over again. “No” she said, serenely confident. “Sometimes it’s ok to give in.”
And so the years passed. I earned my Doctoral degree in Child Psychology and was offered a teaching post at a community college. Vaidehi also completed her Bachelors then Masters in Information Management and Systems. We settled into jobs and life was replete with everyday cares.
It was around this time that Vaidehi started chatting with a young Indian woman, Shivani, who had moved into the apartment below us. Shivani was a Journalism student by day and a waitress by night. It took us two months to realize Shivani was pregnant. And another two months to realize she was painfully alone.
I watched with silent anxiety as Vaidehi became increasingly attached to Shivani. We were childless. A fact that Vaidehi and I had accepted. But now I worried Vaidehi was pouring her expectations into Shivani’s womb. Sure enough, Shivani offered us her baby the minute he was born. I was aghast. But a look of utter understanding passed between Shivani and Vaidehi. Neither was doing any favors. Shivani had no means of supporting the baby. (She had separated from an abusive boyfriend). Vaidehi was only too delighted to accept the baby. However, none of us wanted to go through the red tape of an actual adoption. So we worked out an informal arrangement by which Shivani stayed around to sign off on official documents etc. But the baby, Kedar, lived with us. Vaidehi devoted herself to being a mother. At first I mocked her, and then humbled, I allowed myself to be sucked in as well. Soon the three of us were family.
One day, about six months later, out of the blue, Vaidehi got it in her head that if she could just get her parents to see Kedar, things would fall in place. I felt motherhood had softened her. Hmph! I scoffed. But then I remembered sometimes it’s ok to give in.
So we flew to Hyderabad; all four of us- Shivani, me, Kedar and Vaidehi. Of course we were greeted by a silent, locked door. We sat in front of that door the whole day. Finally Vaidehi shuffled to her feet. I wanted to tear down that door and shoot them all.
And that’s when we realized Kedar had fever.
Stifling our guilt, we rushed to the R___ L___ hospital. At the entrance I grabbed a registration form and started filling it out. I was brought up short at the second line itself. It asked for the father’s name. Point blank. There was no option for “mother” or “guardian”. I crossed out ‘father’, wrote in ‘mother’ and after a slight pause filled in Shivani’s name. I quickly filled out the rest of the form and handed it in. A red pen ran down the form and made a big circle around Shivani’s name. We don’t need mother’s name here, said a masculine voice. We need father’s name. But he does not live with us, he does not even know the baby, I explained. Never mind, came the retort in impatient tones. The baby has a father right? Give me his name…..and the pen hovered over the form. Did I imagine the mockery in the voice? I opened my mouth to argue, when someone intercepted. It was Vaidehi. “Sir” she clipped, “this baby needs help. Get him help now. His father does not care if he lives or dies, and you want his name over his mother’s who carried him for 9 months? How about we put in your name- how about that?”
I stepped aside and watched the fireworks. Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned! The poor man stood no chance. He retreated and fetched his manager – who was also lambasted by Vaidehi. The manager now rushed to get his senior manager. Oh boy! We really raised a stink that day! It was the four of us ranged against a veritable army of pot-bellied, pompous old men. Finally a senior doctor suggested we could write the father’s name and the mother’s name. His suggestion was greeted with a great roar of approval - clearly everyone was impressed by his brilliance. We finally gave up.
But I remember a nurse who smiled and stuck her thumb up at me, signaling victory. I also remember my sadness at her gesture.
In the end, it turned out Kedar only had a minor heat stroke. Much relieved, we cut our trip short and returned home.
My world has turned many times since. Memories cartwheel around my head like tumbleweeds……
Vaidehi cheering at Shivani’s graduation, Vaidehi puzzling over Kedar’s assignments, Vaidehi beaming at an unexpected promotion, Vaidehi laughing at my first (and only) attempt at wearing a saree, Vaidehi marching to protest the Iraq war, Vaidehi buying a hand fan to celebrate my first hot flash, Vaidehi accepting Shivani’s move to Boston, Vaidehi quietly acquiescing when Kedar followed suit.
And more recently- Vaidehi stunned to receive a call from her newly widowed mother… Vaidehi disappointed by my cold silences…Vaidehi sobbing quietly in bed last night……
And finally, Vaidehi departing for India today.... without a backward glance.....
Draining my glass, I come back in and start my laptop. I pull up the screen for Singapore Airlines and click on the tab ‘flights and fares’.
Departure city: San Francisco. Destination city: Hyderabad.
It’s time to let my world turn again. Sometimes it’s ok to give in.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Krishna
Krishna Nee Begane Baro
Krishna......Krishna.......
I never tire of singing your name
Tasting it over and over again
I sit drenched and drunk
Your name spilling over my unsteady lips....
Sing to me, play to me, play on me Krishna
With soft golden notes splay open my soul
Absorb me, cherish me, nourish me Krishna
There's not much left here for me to behold
Krishna......Krishna.......
I never tire of singing your name
Tasting it over and over again
I sit drenched and drunk
Your name spilling over my unsteady lips....
Sing to me, play to me, play on me Krishna
With soft golden notes splay open my soul
Absorb me, cherish me, nourish me Krishna
There's not much left here for me to behold
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Deceptions
An outright lie is a welcome deception.
Beware instead of secret dreams, of a sidelong glance, of a sudden double-take, of a whispered name.
Silvery, slippery veils of deception. Baring both - the deciever and the decieved.
Beware instead of secret dreams, of a sidelong glance, of a sudden double-take, of a whispered name.
Silvery, slippery veils of deception. Baring both - the deciever and the decieved.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Saagar Manthan (The Churning of the Oceans)
The Hindu mythology tells the story of Saagar Manthan (The Churning of the Oceans). Once upon a time gods and demons came together and churned the milky oceans to find the elixir of life. Through that churning were born many things- great and small, noble and vile. Such is our life.
My Churning
For the first time in my life I am a stay-at-home mom. I have no classes to rush to, no meetings to attend, no paychecks coming in my name. Some days I wonder why I did not do this earlier. Other days I want to find a shrink and get my head examined.
I worked as a market researcher in the pharmaceutical industry for the past 9 years (since Jan 2000) – and 8 of those 9 years I worked from home. This industry thrives on the East coast, especially in the New Jersey/New York area. But my husband was based on Chandler, Arizona. So telecommuting was a good compromise as we began our married life in December 2000. I considered it a temporary arrangement while I settled down in Chandler. The plan was to find an on-site job within a year or so. But inertia set in and I decided to let things ride for some time. Soon we decided to have our first baby. Advait was born on August 5th 2003. After his birth, telecommuting became a logical solution to managing a baby and still keeping a full-time job. Advait did go to daycare but only for 3-4 hours. My husband had a 10 minute commute so he could drop him off late in the mornings and I worked East coast hours so I could wrap up by 3PM PST. I could earn a six-figure salary and still be home with my son by 4PM.
I should have been happy. But I was restless.
I was the only telecommuter in my office and was passed over for promotions again and again. I saw others who had joined the company at the same time as me rise up to managerial positions. I watched my husband flourish at his job and get promotions two years in a row. One a more emotional level I envied my friends who dressed up each morning and walked out of the house. I hung onto every story they regaled about fantastic social events happening in their office. I also tolerated endless jokes about people who ‘worked from home.’ I patiently pointed out my generous salary to friends and family who were not quite sure what I did at home. And to stop work at 3PM, I had to actually start working by 5AM! Not an easy task with a little one in tow.
All in all, I worked myself up into solid discontent.
So we decided we would move to California. We felt this would not only be good for Advait since we have lots of family in California but would also be a great move for our careers. The Silicon Valley is the final frontier for my husband who works in the computer industry and I had renewed hopes of getting a full-time on-site job in San Francisco, which cradles most bio-tech companies.
And that’s when we discovered we were expecting our second child. Torn between laughter and tears we postponed our plans for another year and settled down to welcome Vedant.
Vedant was born on November 15th, 2005. We spent an idyllic year in Chandler after his birth. I needed to get back to work but we could now afford a full-time nanny, Shawna, who also helped around the house. Shawna and I became very good friends. It was wonderful to have someone to chat with during breaks. It was equally wonderful to hear Vedant gurgling and playing downstairs all day. People told me I was lucky. Indeed I must have been. But at heart I was still restless.
And so in November of 2006 we moved to California, San Ramon.
Our family welcomed us with open arms. The kids were now 1 and 3 years old. Neither of them were babies. I felt the most challenging part of parenting was behind us. After all we were finally sleeping through the nights (yes I can see experienced parents laughing right now!). I felt I could now put the kids in daycare and get out of the house. I found a new job with great ease. It was another company on the East coast so I still worked from home for the most part but they had a West coast team as well. So there was the promise of flying out for onsite meetings, driving to San Francisco for client meetings, travelling to conferences for important presentations. I was given the title of Associate Vice President of West Coast research. I was on a high! I discovered I excelled at client servicing. Every project I touched turned to gold- we got repeat business, new business, glowing referrals. My team was on a roll and I was in the driver’s seat.
But now the hours got longer. And the work became high pressure. With all this responsibility came impossible deadlines and enormous amounts of politics. Having worked almost solo for almost 6 years, I was blown away by the ugly e-mails, friction filled meetings and barbed back-biting. And as the year progressed I realized I was still very much treated as a telecommuter- the only difference was we were now 3 of us on the West coast- all ignored by the main mother ship. So I was restless again! This is bad I finally cried to my husband one night. All this politics! No training. No development. And still sitting at home! I really hated it when friends caught up with me after years of silence and started their greeting with ‘Hi! Still working from home?’
So once again things were in a flux. I quit this job and within a week I had another one at hand. That was certainly a great boost for my ego! And this time, it was a truly an on-site, full time position in San Francisco. In fact I went from no commute to an almost 2 hour commute each way. I had a 20 minute drive to the BART station, then a 45 minute ride into the city, then another 20 minute ride by MUNI to my office. And god forbid if I missed any connecting train, things could get really crazy.
In the mornings I left for work before anyone was up. On good days I could get back in time to pick my children up from daycare by 6:30 PM, but on most days I just managed to get back home in time to tuck them into bed. At office things were more hectic than ever. This new job was with a consulting firm vs. a traditional market research firm. To the uninitiated, let me explain, there is a world of difference between the two. The former has crazier deadlines, works 24 hours around the clock- and has a do-it-all-yourself structure – which basically means there is no team to hand off any phase of your project work. I was also relegated to being behind a desk most of the times vs. servicing clients, which I loved best and really excelled at. And to top it all, it was a start-up with a current staff of three young earnest girls. There was no talk or laughter during the day. All of us sat in our cubicles working furiously for hours until it was time to go home; There was no fancy social life as I had imagined. I also felt awkward leaving the office at 6 PM. The other girls came in before me by 7AM and left after me at 10 PM. They were young, single and without kids. I felt like an old Cadillac trying to race against two hip Mustangs!
Did I not know what I was heading into? Of course I had an inkling! But I was so delighted at the prospect of finally stepping out, that I ignored every word of caution uttered by any well-wisher. At that time I was determined to succeed. I actually lasted all of 4 months.
Meanwhile my husband, who worked the same hours as I did, put away his laptop on most evenings and took charge of the house. While I fretted and fumed over a report due the next day, he fed the kids dinner. While I typed up a client response, he read them stories. While I finally dropped into bed exhausted, he cleaned away the kitchen and planned next morning’s breakfast. Even on the weekends as I worked and worked, he took the kids to swim classes, cooked Sunday brunches and played with them all day. And never once did I hear him complain. He understood this was important to me - and accepted it peacefully.
But now in my heart reared something more powerful and painful than any discontent I had ever experienced before. I hated being away from my kids day after day. I missed their faces in the mornings. I missed their hugs in the afternoons. I was absent from their school parties, I could not take them to play dates anymore. We only had weekends in which to cram in homework, co-curricular classes as well as precious family time. All the things I had taken for granted earlier, were now so difficult to accomplish! Our house was running purely on my husband’s ability to sustain.
The final straw came, with diabolic luck, on the day I was slated for my 3-month review. It was the meeting in which I would be accorded permanent employee status. Just as I pulled out of the garage at 5:30 AM, Advait came running out of the house. He was bawling his head off. I leapt out of my car in alarm. I just want to see you, I just want to see you, he cried, hugging me tight. How I got to the office that day, I do not know. I cried and howled all morning and in the review I acknowledged things did not look too good. And finally two weeks later I resigned from my job. That was February 2009.
Right around the time I resigned I got another rude shock. I attended back-to-back parent teacher meetings for both my kids. Teachers at both schools remarked on their lack of self-discipline, their rowdy behavior and their restless attitudes. Take him home earlier, urged my younger one’s pre-school teacher. Let him be with you, let him be in the house around you. She was asking me to calm him down.
I was angry and resentful. There are so many kids in daycare! They all looked fine to me! And in response the teacher said something I will never forget- Yes there are, she said. But we are talking about your child and what he needs.
My husband and I thought things over. We knew one of us needed to slow down- the kids needed us. After much soul searching I decided I should step up to the plate. So I postponed my job hunt. For the first time ever I focused on my children with complete attention. I reduced their daycare hours and established firm routines for work and play. I let them do chores around the house and worked with their teachers to define a system of daily checks and rewards. I served them milk as they played outside; I gave them time outs when they broke house rules. At first my children were decidedly confused. They were not sure what to do around me or the house. Then with enviable equanimity, they quickly adjusted and welcomed me home.
And lo! Suddenly! I was at peace.I did not know I could be this content. I was hugely astonished. And not a little dismayed and ashamed! Growing up in a staunchly feminist household, this was the last thing I imagined would give me comfort. I worried about my family's reaction, I feared my friends' ridicule. And then I think with wisdom born of despair, if not experience, I decided, for once, to follow my heart. At stake was not just my pride or sanity- it was my family's peace and happiness. It was time to give back a little of what I had taken from them over the past two years of constant turmoil.
So now I don’t know what the future holds. I certainly don’t wish for a full-time job that will pull me away from my kids again. It’s a joy to see them happy and relaxed instead of being hurried to daycares and back! Perhaps I will get a part-time job. Perhaps I will go back to school for higher studies. Perhaps I will do no more (and no less) than manage my house and kids, full-time.
While all this mulling hasn’t got me an answer yet, it has certainly given me some insights. I call them my emerging elixir.
My Emerging Elixir
To understand and accept- I finally understand and accept that I have responsibilities more demanding than any corporate job and more urgent than any personal ambition. It takes a lifetime of hard work to raise decent, healthy children. I cannot and should not hope to switch off anytime soon. I also accept that everyone’s life flows in different patterns and at different speeds. Every family has their own needs; every child has his/her requirement, every person has their own distinct desire and destiny. I must never, ever forget that. Just because most people behave in a certain way, does not automatically make it the best choice for every individual. I must never hesitate to go off the beaten path if I truly think it’s the better one.
I also understand and accept that what I am today is not necessarily what I will be tomorrow or what I was in the past. We are all forever morphing; our motives, priorities, fears, desire, ambitions, needs are all ever-changing. It’s important to accept that change and allow it. It’s important to not box yourself into stereotypical roles and saddle yourself with lifelong labels. Life churns constantly- we respond to each situation like a chameleon changes colors. No color is ever permanent- but all colors are beautiful. Enjoy the color you are today- and don’t worry you are stuck with it for life. You will likely change color pretty soon- even if by just a shade.
To appreciate: I now take time to appreciate. I appreciate my life. I am grateful I have the luxury to make errors and rectify them; I am thankful I always have a choice. There are millions who live lives forced by circumstances; who don’t have a choice regarding which path they tread; who don’t have children to love and protect; who don’t have marriages replete with unfaltering loyalty and respect. How did I forget to be thankful for all that I have?
To trust and be patient: So far life has not brought me a single moment that has been utterly destructive. Even in my darkest moments I have been granted strength and compassion. Life has taught me to trust her- and trust her I will! So even when the benefits are not obvious or immediate, I must be patient and persist with the right actions,trusting that things will always work out. Life shifts patterns relentlessly, falling into alternating tableaus of hope and despair. We should try to play along, trusting that the scene will change again soon.
All right! I think I have said enough. I am going to sign off now- with one last thought. I spent a lot of time worrying over what was important to me. The day I changed tracks and thought instead about who was important to me, things became much simpler, if not easier.
My Churning
For the first time in my life I am a stay-at-home mom. I have no classes to rush to, no meetings to attend, no paychecks coming in my name. Some days I wonder why I did not do this earlier. Other days I want to find a shrink and get my head examined.
I worked as a market researcher in the pharmaceutical industry for the past 9 years (since Jan 2000) – and 8 of those 9 years I worked from home. This industry thrives on the East coast, especially in the New Jersey/New York area. But my husband was based on Chandler, Arizona. So telecommuting was a good compromise as we began our married life in December 2000. I considered it a temporary arrangement while I settled down in Chandler. The plan was to find an on-site job within a year or so. But inertia set in and I decided to let things ride for some time. Soon we decided to have our first baby. Advait was born on August 5th 2003. After his birth, telecommuting became a logical solution to managing a baby and still keeping a full-time job. Advait did go to daycare but only for 3-4 hours. My husband had a 10 minute commute so he could drop him off late in the mornings and I worked East coast hours so I could wrap up by 3PM PST. I could earn a six-figure salary and still be home with my son by 4PM.
I should have been happy. But I was restless.
I was the only telecommuter in my office and was passed over for promotions again and again. I saw others who had joined the company at the same time as me rise up to managerial positions. I watched my husband flourish at his job and get promotions two years in a row. One a more emotional level I envied my friends who dressed up each morning and walked out of the house. I hung onto every story they regaled about fantastic social events happening in their office. I also tolerated endless jokes about people who ‘worked from home.’ I patiently pointed out my generous salary to friends and family who were not quite sure what I did at home. And to stop work at 3PM, I had to actually start working by 5AM! Not an easy task with a little one in tow.
All in all, I worked myself up into solid discontent.
So we decided we would move to California. We felt this would not only be good for Advait since we have lots of family in California but would also be a great move for our careers. The Silicon Valley is the final frontier for my husband who works in the computer industry and I had renewed hopes of getting a full-time on-site job in San Francisco, which cradles most bio-tech companies.
And that’s when we discovered we were expecting our second child. Torn between laughter and tears we postponed our plans for another year and settled down to welcome Vedant.
Vedant was born on November 15th, 2005. We spent an idyllic year in Chandler after his birth. I needed to get back to work but we could now afford a full-time nanny, Shawna, who also helped around the house. Shawna and I became very good friends. It was wonderful to have someone to chat with during breaks. It was equally wonderful to hear Vedant gurgling and playing downstairs all day. People told me I was lucky. Indeed I must have been. But at heart I was still restless.
And so in November of 2006 we moved to California, San Ramon.
Our family welcomed us with open arms. The kids were now 1 and 3 years old. Neither of them were babies. I felt the most challenging part of parenting was behind us. After all we were finally sleeping through the nights (yes I can see experienced parents laughing right now!). I felt I could now put the kids in daycare and get out of the house. I found a new job with great ease. It was another company on the East coast so I still worked from home for the most part but they had a West coast team as well. So there was the promise of flying out for onsite meetings, driving to San Francisco for client meetings, travelling to conferences for important presentations. I was given the title of Associate Vice President of West Coast research. I was on a high! I discovered I excelled at client servicing. Every project I touched turned to gold- we got repeat business, new business, glowing referrals. My team was on a roll and I was in the driver’s seat.
But now the hours got longer. And the work became high pressure. With all this responsibility came impossible deadlines and enormous amounts of politics. Having worked almost solo for almost 6 years, I was blown away by the ugly e-mails, friction filled meetings and barbed back-biting. And as the year progressed I realized I was still very much treated as a telecommuter- the only difference was we were now 3 of us on the West coast- all ignored by the main mother ship. So I was restless again! This is bad I finally cried to my husband one night. All this politics! No training. No development. And still sitting at home! I really hated it when friends caught up with me after years of silence and started their greeting with ‘Hi! Still working from home?’
So once again things were in a flux. I quit this job and within a week I had another one at hand. That was certainly a great boost for my ego! And this time, it was a truly an on-site, full time position in San Francisco. In fact I went from no commute to an almost 2 hour commute each way. I had a 20 minute drive to the BART station, then a 45 minute ride into the city, then another 20 minute ride by MUNI to my office. And god forbid if I missed any connecting train, things could get really crazy.
In the mornings I left for work before anyone was up. On good days I could get back in time to pick my children up from daycare by 6:30 PM, but on most days I just managed to get back home in time to tuck them into bed. At office things were more hectic than ever. This new job was with a consulting firm vs. a traditional market research firm. To the uninitiated, let me explain, there is a world of difference between the two. The former has crazier deadlines, works 24 hours around the clock- and has a do-it-all-yourself structure – which basically means there is no team to hand off any phase of your project work. I was also relegated to being behind a desk most of the times vs. servicing clients, which I loved best and really excelled at. And to top it all, it was a start-up with a current staff of three young earnest girls. There was no talk or laughter during the day. All of us sat in our cubicles working furiously for hours until it was time to go home; There was no fancy social life as I had imagined. I also felt awkward leaving the office at 6 PM. The other girls came in before me by 7AM and left after me at 10 PM. They were young, single and without kids. I felt like an old Cadillac trying to race against two hip Mustangs!
Did I not know what I was heading into? Of course I had an inkling! But I was so delighted at the prospect of finally stepping out, that I ignored every word of caution uttered by any well-wisher. At that time I was determined to succeed. I actually lasted all of 4 months.
Meanwhile my husband, who worked the same hours as I did, put away his laptop on most evenings and took charge of the house. While I fretted and fumed over a report due the next day, he fed the kids dinner. While I typed up a client response, he read them stories. While I finally dropped into bed exhausted, he cleaned away the kitchen and planned next morning’s breakfast. Even on the weekends as I worked and worked, he took the kids to swim classes, cooked Sunday brunches and played with them all day. And never once did I hear him complain. He understood this was important to me - and accepted it peacefully.
But now in my heart reared something more powerful and painful than any discontent I had ever experienced before. I hated being away from my kids day after day. I missed their faces in the mornings. I missed their hugs in the afternoons. I was absent from their school parties, I could not take them to play dates anymore. We only had weekends in which to cram in homework, co-curricular classes as well as precious family time. All the things I had taken for granted earlier, were now so difficult to accomplish! Our house was running purely on my husband’s ability to sustain.
The final straw came, with diabolic luck, on the day I was slated for my 3-month review. It was the meeting in which I would be accorded permanent employee status. Just as I pulled out of the garage at 5:30 AM, Advait came running out of the house. He was bawling his head off. I leapt out of my car in alarm. I just want to see you, I just want to see you, he cried, hugging me tight. How I got to the office that day, I do not know. I cried and howled all morning and in the review I acknowledged things did not look too good. And finally two weeks later I resigned from my job. That was February 2009.
Right around the time I resigned I got another rude shock. I attended back-to-back parent teacher meetings for both my kids. Teachers at both schools remarked on their lack of self-discipline, their rowdy behavior and their restless attitudes. Take him home earlier, urged my younger one’s pre-school teacher. Let him be with you, let him be in the house around you. She was asking me to calm him down.
I was angry and resentful. There are so many kids in daycare! They all looked fine to me! And in response the teacher said something I will never forget- Yes there are, she said. But we are talking about your child and what he needs.
My husband and I thought things over. We knew one of us needed to slow down- the kids needed us. After much soul searching I decided I should step up to the plate. So I postponed my job hunt. For the first time ever I focused on my children with complete attention. I reduced their daycare hours and established firm routines for work and play. I let them do chores around the house and worked with their teachers to define a system of daily checks and rewards. I served them milk as they played outside; I gave them time outs when they broke house rules. At first my children were decidedly confused. They were not sure what to do around me or the house. Then with enviable equanimity, they quickly adjusted and welcomed me home.
And lo! Suddenly! I was at peace.I did not know I could be this content. I was hugely astonished. And not a little dismayed and ashamed! Growing up in a staunchly feminist household, this was the last thing I imagined would give me comfort. I worried about my family's reaction, I feared my friends' ridicule. And then I think with wisdom born of despair, if not experience, I decided, for once, to follow my heart. At stake was not just my pride or sanity- it was my family's peace and happiness. It was time to give back a little of what I had taken from them over the past two years of constant turmoil.
So now I don’t know what the future holds. I certainly don’t wish for a full-time job that will pull me away from my kids again. It’s a joy to see them happy and relaxed instead of being hurried to daycares and back! Perhaps I will get a part-time job. Perhaps I will go back to school for higher studies. Perhaps I will do no more (and no less) than manage my house and kids, full-time.
While all this mulling hasn’t got me an answer yet, it has certainly given me some insights. I call them my emerging elixir.
My Emerging Elixir
To understand and accept- I finally understand and accept that I have responsibilities more demanding than any corporate job and more urgent than any personal ambition. It takes a lifetime of hard work to raise decent, healthy children. I cannot and should not hope to switch off anytime soon. I also accept that everyone’s life flows in different patterns and at different speeds. Every family has their own needs; every child has his/her requirement, every person has their own distinct desire and destiny. I must never, ever forget that. Just because most people behave in a certain way, does not automatically make it the best choice for every individual. I must never hesitate to go off the beaten path if I truly think it’s the better one.
I also understand and accept that what I am today is not necessarily what I will be tomorrow or what I was in the past. We are all forever morphing; our motives, priorities, fears, desire, ambitions, needs are all ever-changing. It’s important to accept that change and allow it. It’s important to not box yourself into stereotypical roles and saddle yourself with lifelong labels. Life churns constantly- we respond to each situation like a chameleon changes colors. No color is ever permanent- but all colors are beautiful. Enjoy the color you are today- and don’t worry you are stuck with it for life. You will likely change color pretty soon- even if by just a shade.
To appreciate: I now take time to appreciate. I appreciate my life. I am grateful I have the luxury to make errors and rectify them; I am thankful I always have a choice. There are millions who live lives forced by circumstances; who don’t have a choice regarding which path they tread; who don’t have children to love and protect; who don’t have marriages replete with unfaltering loyalty and respect. How did I forget to be thankful for all that I have?
To trust and be patient: So far life has not brought me a single moment that has been utterly destructive. Even in my darkest moments I have been granted strength and compassion. Life has taught me to trust her- and trust her I will! So even when the benefits are not obvious or immediate, I must be patient and persist with the right actions,trusting that things will always work out. Life shifts patterns relentlessly, falling into alternating tableaus of hope and despair. We should try to play along, trusting that the scene will change again soon.
All right! I think I have said enough. I am going to sign off now- with one last thought. I spent a lot of time worrying over what was important to me. The day I changed tracks and thought instead about who was important to me, things became much simpler, if not easier.
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