Lessons from 26/11: Who needs them?

After the horror of 26/11 faded away and lives limped back to normalcy, for us- the common citizens, it just meant a few more security checks everyday. Which I, as a “hypermom” did welcome even when the security men at a shopping mall created a jam by checking the boot of every car.

I had a big haversack containing the kids’ rackets-I got down ready to get that scanned.

No Ma’am, the bags will be checked when you walk in.

But I am not taking that bag-it’ll remain in the car. Who’s going to check that?

That’s Ok Ma’am. It is not our job.

The cars behind me were having a hooting competition.

I drove in and parked.

Another evening….

A few hundred (or was it thousand) people came through the narrow walkway and collected to see the “light and sound” show at Brindavan gardens, waiting for darkness to fall.

In the melee of grand-dads playing with toddlers, couples looking for corners, and hassled parents buying popcorn to placate howling kids…a man huddled with a larger than usual suitcase.

My imagination got the fuel it always seeks. A suitcase?

Are those two lathi wielding guys the only security here?

The man sets the suitcase down and fiddles with his mobile. I keep staring as he sets the suitcase against the steps and walks off.

Paranoid that I am, I whisper to my husband and point out the suitcase. He shrugs. The guy's  probably going off to pee or to click a picture. I keep my eyes on the stranger who is walking further away.

When he does not come back in 5 minutes, I walk down and ask the guys sitting next to the suitcase if they know the owner. Nobody does.

The lathiwala’s reaction: What suitcase? Oh some idiot did the same yesterday also-can you bring the suitcase here?

This is the guy in a khakhi uniform!!!

As I made him walk up to the area-the people had started moving away, but only a little (they may feel unsafe-but they can't look silly). I pointed out the suitcase wallah-who was propped against the far entrance and looking at us.

That guy rushed through the crowds to claim his luggage and clasped it close. There was a quick conversation in Kannada -which from body language and my “swalpa” knowledge of the language translates as:

A: Women ******. Heee, I was just taking photos****

B: Hee. Women********. Don’t leave your luggage around. You are not allowed to bring it here.

A: Hee*******And he sits down next to the suitcase.

I might have been getting all kinds of looks from all around, but years of practice made them immaterial as I kept my attention on the suitcase till the guy finally picked it up and walked off, five minutes before the show started.

The general verdict: Paranoid woman!

Yep. And I’ll do it again because some things will never change.

Some other children

Amidst all the chaos of my Children’s day preparations, I clicked on the NDTV homepage featuring some other children-the ones losing their struggle for surviving beyond the day.

It took me back many years to a tiny, deserted railway station in Rajasthan.

We were returning from a college trip and the train slowed down at a signal. A woman walked close to the train, with a little baby in a basket. A couple of us were hanging at our usual spot near the compartment door and I leaned out and waved merrily at the baby.

The woman seemed to rush over, talking desperately and almost thrusting the basket at me. Unable to follow her words, I stepped back, was she begging?

My friend pulled me up a step  as the train picked up speed again. The woman ran the length of the platform holding out the basket as I fished out some money and started to throw it near her.

“She is not asking for money,” my friend insisted, “she wants you to take the baby.”

We had left the platform by then and I was still struggling to understand: She was saying she was going to throw the baby on the tracks, then she saw you looking at her, and ran after you.

It took time to sink in.

Was it real?

That woman was really going to throw her baby on the tracks? Why didn’t I grab the basket?

“Are you crazy? Just imagine the hostel warden’s reaction if we went back with a baby.”

I was still shaken. We could have given the baby to some NGO, some mother who would have kept her, but it was too late.

I still feel guilty.

Because I am afraid that nobody else grabbed that basket either. And that baby too met the fate that so many other baby girls in our country do.

I still want to go back and help a few babies like her. Writing about her is just the beginning, I hope I can do something more.

Someday soon.

Thanks to blogadda for picking this post-we need all the help we can in rooting out this evil

Children's Day: After the storm

Yes the day went great.

We were only a little late for school, but since most kids were a little behind schedule, and the teachers had built in that buffer, both the girls enjoyed.

This is Aurora's class getting ready for a Cinderella at the Ball dance:

And this is Elena's class of Zebras and Lions;

And this is my troupe of dancers for the event at home:

Until next time!

Children's Day

As if we didn’t have enough festivals on the Indian calendar!

It was ok till it was a fancy dress party in play school. Yes the costumes and teaching them two lines took time, but they enjoyed so much that it was worth the time.

And now….

Same time last year, one day before the Children’s day celebrations in school, I am in office and get an urgent call from the day care:

Mamma, Ma’am has given us the dresses for tomorrow. We have to get ready, put on MAKEUP from home....

Wow. What fun! Ok so I get up 15 mins earlier fine..

And she said we have to shampoo and blow dry our hair…

Ok. 30 minutes*2

And we need to wear bangles

I hope that's all. …oops..I’ll have to arrange them before going to bed today

And…

and what?

She said we can’t wear sandals or shoes because it is a Punjabi dance, so we have to wear jobhris

…what on earth was that??

Ok, the teacher must have meant Mojris but how on earth was I going to manage buying them before tomorrow morning?

My husband was in a conference. He could not go out Mojri shopping, neither could he baby sit in the evening if I went out..

And then if I went shopping after office, with these two in tow, how do I manage making dinner, tomorrow’s lunch and breakfast?

Where in Bangalore would I find Mojris?

Should I ask Mom to send them by courier? 

Half a dozen calls later, the Grand referee to the rescue.  He found someone whom he could send to Commercial Street. The only catch-wasn't sure the guy understood what Mojris are….

I did an image search on Google, sent an email, and kept my fingers crossed….

Two hours later, I got a call saying the Mojris were with him, I had to wait till night to see if they were Ok.

….there was nothing else I could do

Thankfully they worked.

I still made a big fuss about the teachers dropping it on us at the last moment so this time both girls got their costumes and shopping lists two days in advance.

So all I need to do this time is: 

• Stitch Zebra ears on Elena’s costume for the Animal dance
  
  
• Fold and hem half a mile of Aurora’s ball gown which is way too long for her.
  
  
• Buy matching ear-rings and sandals and ruffled socks and gloves….
  (….and Mamma can you PLEASE buy some eyeliner and blusher also, everyone else will be wearing them)

 Oh….

• I need to teach them and two of their friends a dance too........ for the Children’s day celebrations in the apartment complex.
  
  
• Yep. And then I’ll have to organize the costumes for that too… 

As there isn’t any time left over for blogging, I am just posting this list…..just in time to rush out and buy the matching thread for stitching her gown.

Growing up, going online..

While I wait for the day when the kids will have grown up, there are these moments when I look  at them and wonder if it isn’t it happening too fast!

Flashback..

Me naming each object I took out while cleaning the fridge, and Elena repeating them with a baby lisp…Eggsh, Tomatoess, Butterl, Juice, Papa’s Juice…noooooo..it is called Beeeeeerl

When did she learn that?
I stand corrected.

Cut to present…

She is just feeling her way around a keyboard, playing games, and asks if I can create an email account for her…

Days later,
I see she is online and ping her with a cheery Hi!
My chat window blinks:
Elena: … the red circle with a bar means I am busy. I can’t chat with you now.
Loverna: Your Internet time is up, please log off
Elena: Ok.
Her status changes to offline.


And I am really not sure whether she’s offline or “ invisible”

Am I being “Hyper” in feeling scared and wondering what next and deciding to supervise her net activity more actively, to talk about the need to chat only with “approved” friends?


And then I read this article on what can happen to any kid:
http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/article6899975.ece

It’s on us to keep our children safe, and if I need to get hyper, then I’ll do that too…..