A Labor of Love

It was on a lazed out Sunday evening when my phone rang and woke me up from my hibernation of thoughts. 

"Hello..?"

"Would you like to have some junk food and chats, as you won't be able to have it for a long time?"

Jumping with elation, I replied, "yes bhava"

It was my brother-in-law's call to cheer me up and take me on a hogging spree. My in-laws, hubby dear, brother-in-law, sister-in-law and the chotus, thronged to the streets for some mouth watering chats and lassi, which went pretty much late into the night.

Anxiety, anxiousness and a plethora of worries couldn't give me a sound sleep. I woke up with a sense of hope that the following day would go well without much exhaustion. Car was loaded with my luggage as we sped away to cloud nine hospital, the best in town. I approached the subject of childbirth with nonchalance. I thought I was planning for something calm but instead it was powerful, intense and loud!

I entered the hospital for an induction, clueless of how the entire procedure would go. But I had a faint idea it would never be going to be easy. Nothing in life comes easy, isn't it. A cart full of medicines in tow, came the non-stress test monitor to check the contractions constantly. Initially, I was all smiles and enjoying the attention I was getting, but once the labor pain was induced, physical suffering and discomfort settled in. Minutes seemed unending hours, and hours seemed unending years.

People started pouring in, to give me emotional support. But didn't seem so to me as I was sinking in more and more infinite pain. Unceasingly, I preferred to hold my husband's hands for some physical support which in turn helped me remarkably. Labor is all about the cervix dilation. When the pain was induced, I was at 3 cms, acutely low. Thought it would go on the whole day, perhaps, the entire evening and night. No one had the answer, the faster you dilate, speedy the delivery. 

I climbed onto my husband's lap (as much as I could) and sobbed that I didn't want to do it anymore. Even in my suffering, I uttered, "please take me on a long vacation when the time is right"

"yes honey, you are doing well, few more minutes and we are done", came the reply from my dear husband who couldn't see me in this state. Nurses advised me to take an epidural but my husband was strongly against it, tolerating and taking it as it came, but never a tranquilizer.  

Euphoria!! The midwives said I was 9 cm dilated, and were encouraging me, saying I had coped up pretty well. I was closer to witness the best moment of my life. Boy or Girl never mattered to us, I just wanted to get done with it. In came the wheel chair to escort me to the most dreaded room, the labor room. Praying, sulking, crying to myself, I saw my parents, in-laws, relatives follow me through the corridor. 

As it transpired, I saw a host of nurses getting prepped up for the ultimate task. There I was, lying on the bed, losing my already lost senses, hoping things to end soon. My obstetrician was in the OPD seeing patients, which fret me out even further. My husband instructed to call her immediately. After yet another examination, junior doctor announced me fit to push. Without further waiting for my doctor, I started the marathon of pushing. "The pain that you've been feeling, can't compare to the joy that's coming."

At least ten nurses were around, two junior doctors, my doctor and my husband, clasping to his hands tightly, I got the party started. Within no time, the waters broke and I was in active labor. "Push, push, push" were the words uttered from a dozen. Screaming my heart out, I began to push, eventually, the head started to emerge out. The baby started "crowning", everyone in chorus cried, push push.. Agonizing and yet amazing and empowering to see the force with which my body could work.

After incessant squealing, around noon, I saw a tiny head emerging out; the emergence of the entire baby head can be hardly described as "cute." With one more of these incredible contractions, my baby left my body for the last time as we stared at it with a calm awe. As the baby was out, the staff declared it was a baby girl, pink and beautiful and chubby. She cooed and cried which was huge sigh of relief, I stopped weeping as she took charge, my family could hear the change in crying sounds. My husband hugged me with tears of joy, yes, from friends to boyfriend-girlfriend to husband-wife, we were now proud parents. It was a sight to remember. 

I was poked, prodded, injected, monitored, prompted, manhandled, but at the end, our princess had arrived. The greatest gift and blessing a woman can have in life is to be a mother. Yes, I was indeed blessed to give birth to my munchkin. 

I just kept staring and amazed at what a magical creation it was. Dear God, thank you for my baby, protect her when I can't.

Ondu Masale, By Two Coffee

The bike came to a screeching halt in front of the famous snack joint, Vidyarthi Bhavan, on a lazy Sunday morning. Ananth and I, had pre plans of visiting this joint for quite a long time, and had finally made it. Finding a place to park in the busy streets of Gandhi bazaar is quite a challenge, irrespective of the time and the day. But somehow managed to squeeze in though.

The place welcomed us with scores of people waiting endlessly to make an entry. A man in mid-forties, donned a spectacle and half sleeved shirt with a pen and book in hand, made notes of the names and gave the respective guest a number and were asked to wait. The usual babbling started between Ananth and me. Checking people and analyzing which field of life they came from, their zest for exploring and experimenting food, last but not the least, their patience levels. At a popular joint like VB, it’s pretty common to wait, endlessly. The man went on shouting names and the numbers and let people in accordingly. After an hour’s wait, came the shrill voice, ‘Ananth, yeradu (two) seats’. It was nothing short of a victory for us after waiting for a long time as hunger panged.

It wasn’t the end though. Getting the waiter’s attention is a task in itself. Someone turned up and asked for the order, ‘yeradu masale dose’, came the reply. I let my eyes do a little work and scanned the place thoroughly. Walls which are decade old stood still and displayed ancient paintings and some old snapshots of the well-known poets from Karnataka and some eminent personalities from both, politics and film fraternity. The roofing wore a dull look from which hung the ceiling fans, perfect ancient-kannadiga-breakfast-joint, I thought.

Plates were arranged on the waiter’s arm like he was skilled and had mastered the art well. Almost stacking a dozen of them while he made the full use of his long stretched arm. As I pondered upon, my thoughts were cut short by the waiter as he landed the dosas on the table. Quite literally though, the dosas were bathed in lot of ghee and oil and dipping out in every pinch of the piece. The chutney was at its authentic best. Dosas automatically melted in the mouth, such was the quality. Coffee was a must have to complete the signature dish.

Nonetheless, it was more of waiting and less of eating which made me ask myself, was it worth the two hours of expedition for a plate of dosa? I leave it to you to ponder upon.

Lord of the hills

It was around noon time, after a sumptuous meal at home, started our journey to the lord of hills, Tirupati. Rightly so, as newlyweds, it's a habitual practice to visit the temple and seek His blessing and thank Him for everything around. More than anything, it was an escapade from the city’s madness and routine to be in peace and tranquility.

The drive along was swift and serene, with a blend of foot-tapping and soulful music to give you company. Right after reaching, we did try our hands at some Andhra delicacies at a famous joint. Mom was more than happy as she was visiting her father’s native and dad was enjoying the company and the outing.

4 am and it was time to get going. Myself and hubby, Ananth, were excited about the do as we had planned to trek the seven hills for the first time together. I was mentally prepped up and I knew the pros and cons about it as it was my fifth time trekking, but it was all new to my hubby dear. But being an athlete he is, it was more or less of a cake walk for him, thanks to his fitness and robustness. It was a sight to admire seeing the nature’s beauty, amidst pilgrims who were trekking along. The sun rose above the horizon and it was our eyes that captured the candid photography of the beauty around. We babbled all our way and within no time, we were in Tirumala, in just three hours, fastest record so far for me.

Parents were taken care by my uncle who’s a localite there. We joined the chaos and the scores of people who had come from boundaries across. As a matter of fact, Tirupati doesn’t get any better in this regard as the religious beliefs and faith in the lord never ends. Could spot a lot of newlyweds along, just like us. It took two hours for us to arrive at the moment, seeing the magnanimous, rich and eye catching shrine of the Lord Balaji. Just thanked Him for everything that happened and is happening in my life, for getting the love of my life, Ananth, into my life and paid my due respects!

Yet again, it was a wonderful time with parents post marriage to spend. They were as joyous as we were about the whole do.

Pain is pleasure

You can smile and pretend to the world that you are happy with your larger-than-life attitude, but the ground reality would be something else all together. It's not about me, it's not about you, it's about all of us, only that the intensity of the suffering and the time differs. 

When you see yourself at crossroads someday, don't think of absconding from reality, rather pick every piece of you that left you shattered and march on. Yes, pain in pleasure, because every distress teaches you a lesson in life. People come and go by, but what really stays with you is your inner true self that keeps whispering 'my dear, don't give up.'

"Pain and pleasure, like light and darkness, succeed each other" - Laurence Sterne

An Emotion Called Woman

“Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men.” ― Joseph Conrad

So said the great philosophers who foresaw what women have in store for themselves for being one. Gender bias was never passe in our country, it's still very much 'in' in every nook and corner of this nation. Why? What lead to the brutal, heinous and horrific crime of a young, aspiring lady who was out with her male companion? All those claiming that she took a wrong bus on that fatal night, had she dreamt of such barbaric act awaiting her?

All said and done, yes, India as a democratic country should bring in change, but to me, that is secondary. The minds and thoughts of an individual should change first, especially those of men. When psychopaths can't think of women beyond sexual gain, why blame the country and it's innocent people?

Rape is just not about mere sexual desire, it is an act of violence, harassment, and sheer domination that the psychopaths try to prove upon the women. This is nothing short of murder! This is what happened with Nirbhaya. And what about the scores of women who undergo rape, molestation, assault, harassment, eve-teasing day in day out that go unnoticed, unattended. Even after this was public and an outraged nation in chorus joined the protests, I read at least a dozen rape cases being reported. Disgusting! Physical state can still be restored but what about the mental trauma that lingers for life? Stringent to stringent rape laws have to be amended and revised which makes every lunatic man shudder even at the thought of touching a woman! India, by and large, has to change this big time.

Ironic that the law makers are becoming the law breakers. Reports already making the rounds that it was more of a political move than a medical one to shift her to Singapore in the most critical state. Government will continue to be in denial about it though we know the bitter truth. So called 'leaders' of this country, stop getting brownie points by calling her a brave heart, she didn't die fighting for the country, she was trying to get back home after a movie. All the politicians have to hang their heads in shame for this untoward incident and indirectly us for voting them.

Why should only a Nirbhaya, or a Pratibha change or awaken this country? We are solely responsible to bring in the change too. But alas, this country will change or hope to change only after an example like this is set up. Even if the perpetrators are brought to book, can they get back a bright, innocent life lost?

"Save me, I want to live" ; "Mom, have our relatives came to know what's happened with me?" : These were the only thoughts the young lady had, hoping against hope, she battled to survive in the intensive care unit, to be hale and healthy one day and get back to work. Prayers and strength to the bereaved family to sustain this loss. Dear unnamed Indian, I do not know your name, but all I know is you are an inspiration, a fighter whom we lost. You have moved onto a better world and in the safe hands of God. Easier said than done, Rest In Peace!

A woman lived in pain, lives in pain and continues to live in pain, unless a miracle saves this country. No place for apathy, STAND UP for your own security first!

P.S :

1. I am not generalizing men here in my post, so have used the term 'psychopaths' for some section of men/rapists/molesters.

2. I don't want any due credits for my blog, my post, this is the least I can or could have done for the parted soul.

English Vinglish: A Must Watch

English language is regarded to be known as 'Universal' language but the bitter truth is many are still alien to this lingo. Lack of exposure? Well, there are more than just one reason to this. But not knowing isn't sinful right. If language could decide respect, bondage, relationships, identity of a soul, we are in for surprises.

With the hoopla around her much-awaited comeback and high expectations riding on the evergreen diva, Sridevi, who is back with English Vinglish after a long hiatus and how! Shashi Godbele, a middle-aged Maharastrian homemaker who has a small but successful catering business, a proficient cook who loves to feed her folks with any kind of food, more or so with her sumptuous ladoos, a dedicated wife/mother who is taken-for-granted and often ridiculed for her poor linguistic skills by her English speaking family. Yet she smiles, takes all the insult gracefully and is on the move to accomplish her family needs.

So an underestimated and belittled Shashi flies to New York to lend a helping hand at her niece's wedding. Braves to manage herself at the immigration counter, thanks to the cameo and short but sweet guidance offered by Amitabh Bachchan, she finally lands in a country where surviving alone minus the English lingo is indeed a challenge. One bad incident in a cafe and it shakes her senses up and gets this undying urge to learn the language, come what may. She enrolls herself for a crash course, manages to travel across the city, remains a committed student who hates bunking classes and just ensures the language is learnt within the stipulated time. Indian movies are incomplete without some extra spice and climaxes, the dutiful Shashi has to skip her exam for the wedding and lands up in a situation (where her folks think she is in an awkward plight) and delivers a monologue in English leaving the entire crowd astonished and applauding. The very next moment you see her 'refined' husband bowing down to his lady, an arrogant daughter awe-struck at her mother's drastic change.

Draped in elegant, khadi, cotton, silk, and crepe saris, de-glam and beautiful, vulnerable and sad, yet selfless and strong, confident and poised, the protagonist, Sri, looks a million bucks and has nailed it down effortlessly as acting is her forte.

Gauri Shinde, making her directorial debut with English Vinglish, has picked up her cast and crew smartly, has crafted it artistically without a glitch, of course taking some lessons and help from her famous husband, Balki. The music and songs of the movie are peppy and leave you soaring with confidence and boast. Movies like these can still be a run-away-success without item numbers, skin and cleavage display and obscenities. It's a feel-good movie, treat to watch which leaves one with lot of insights and introspection.

There are several reasons what made me blog about this movie, one it's a review from my side, two, there is no stopping for a woman when she aspires to be something and desires for it relentlessly. There are several notes one has to make off while watching, a world which is still presumed to be dominated by the darker sex, goes to tell a woman is not meant only for household chores and deserves equal respect and dignity on par with men. There might be many Shashis out there but not all get the opportunity to outshine themselves. Signing off with a dialogue which every women looks out for from her kith and kin:

"I don't want love, I have enough of it. All I need is respect."

An Ode To The Maestro

August 8th, 1981, a child was born, was the apple of the eye to his parents, just like how any couple would feel, was special and precious. Who isn't to their parents? But there was something superfluous about this kid.

Going by the trivia that the web has to offer, this kid like any other normal, upbringing, concerned parents would do, was denied to make his own choices but destiny and fate had its own plans. Though tennis was a family passion in the Federer household, junior Federer was kept way far from the nets and the racket. Happenstance? Fate?

At the age of thirteen, Roger Federer left home to conquer the tennis world. It was way back in the 90's where tennis was dominated by its prodigies Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, Ivan Lendl etc and there was a man in the making, brushing his skills and techniques to take on the champs of that era. Success and recognition first struck a chord with him at the All England Club, Wimbledon, where he won his first grand slam and rest as they say is history. The man, the myth and a true champion, Roger Federer! An amalgam of perfection, sheer concentration and dedication, subtle and guile, and a craft with a wile. There was a breakthrough and complete dominance for five consecutive years. He let his footwork do the talking, swiftly moving across the court to reach out to any corner and thumping a winner down the line. His distinguished forehand and single handed backhand would flabbergast his opponents as they kept guessing where on court would the ball arrive. He created magic time and again, and still continues to do so.

Federer's versatility has been summarised by Jimmy Connors: "In an era of specialists, you're either a clay court specialist, a grass court specialist, or a hard court specialist...or you're Roger Federer."

As its said, one cannot be at the pinnacle of one's career always, there was breakdown, deterioration and fading. With commendable success came criticism. Critics sort off wrote him off whenever he was knocked out of a grand slam before reaching the finals. Strategies, techniques and skills remained the same but what was going wrong was a million dollar question even to the man himself. It wasn't loopholes within himself but a young group of players taken the spotlight away with the likes of Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic. But it was again in 2009 where he won a marathon against Andy Roddick to surpass Pete's record in front of Pete himself, silencing the critics. Success again played the see-saw game until he came back to win the Wimbledon crown again adding a staggering figure of seventeen grand slams into his kitty.

After having achieved so much in life, Roger is known for his composure, tranquility, sportsmanship and has been a true gentlemen and is always grounded. Very few can handle such elevating success and cult status with sheer modesty and simplicity. Considering the illustrious career he has had, I guess he has nothing more to prove or achieve. Supposedly regarded as the second most followed man on earth after Nelson Mandela, ladies dashing knight, an inspiration to many and to me as well because of whom I let go all the inhibitions and made a start to learn tennis, thanks for the tennis addict that I am, a role model to many generations, for someone were success has become a day-to-day affair of sorts. A zillion hearts will be broken the day his retirement will be announced. Until then tennis is in safe hands, possibly the best ambassador of the sport till date, reliving every game, every time. Arguably the best tennis player ever, tagged to be the GOAT - greatest of all time, someone who redefines greatness, and has a legendary stature, here's wishing you the best in life, Happy Birthday Champion!