Homework

CTa somehow knew that this visit to see the dreaded 'MIL' would not be the same as always. Atleast there would be no
undercurrents, no meaningless words exchanged.
This time she felt that she would unravel the barbed wire that had encircled her and cast it away. The kids were far away and
secure for the moment with her dad. She was on her own.

She had prepared herself well for this visit, dressed just well enough to suit the occasion.Not too much makeup and of
course the sari was a pre-requisite.  She would be formal, firm yet speak with a loving tone.
Her fine art of negotiation and tact would be tested to the utmost.
She had made up her mind 'No commitments' but yet she would have to yield.
How far should I have to bend over backwards was the foremost on her mind as she stopped in front of the closed door.

The climb on the short flight of stairs and the visions of what lay behind the door made her short of breath and tipsy. She
gripped the knob for support and the door swung open without warning. Luckily there was a short passage where she paused to
catch her breath. Muffled chatter from within gave her a clue that there were many.
She entered the well lit room with a single large window.

'MIL' held center stage staring at her, with the others crowded around. The awful sisters were there and to her horror one of
the aunts had got up and was waving to her offering the chair right next to 'MIL'. Her panic striken eyes swept across the
room to lock on to the familiar and comfortable visage of her Significant Other Breadwinner(SOB), a politically correct term
coined by her which had received total approval on her widely read blog.

Always alive to the situation SOB got up, motioned to the aunt to sit down and strode across the room. His eyes tried to hide
the enormous confusion within, but she felt comforted by his forced smile and the firm grip of his handshake which thrust a
small piece of colored paper into her hand. "Hey!, thanks for coming, we were all waiting for you. Would you like to take a
look at that report before I take it to surgeon.
After all you are the only real doctor in this family" he said that last bit a little louder half turning to face the rest of
them. Groans of approval and a few nodding heads ensured that she had no option.
But then again this is what she had come here for. They wanted her to read the report. The pack of scoundrels as she referred
to them had stopped chattering.

Well no harm in dishing out a bit of ambiguously correct advice. But that was it. No further, she would negotiate on her own
terms.She was initially surprised by the size of the paper no more than one of those irritating adverts which are slipped into the
morning paper.
There were just two simple paragraphs. Most of the terms were familiar to her and it was a throw back to her days of pouring
over text books. Having given up active medical practice long ago when the kids came she found herself straining to come to
terms with the wordings. Various terms from the report flew up at her as her eyes darted across that small scrap of paper.
They meant nothing and she could not make any sense of it. Her pulse quickened as she became aware of the silence which had
enveloped the entire room waiting to be broken only by her analysis of the report. There was no way she would reveal that she
had no clue what the whole thing meant.

She mustered up some strength to squeak "It's a little lesser than a normal report, Let me go through it once again". That
gave her some more time as she took a deep breath and looked at that paper again.
This time her eyes quickly scanned across and came to rest on a term that had seemed most familiar even at the first reading.
"Glioblastoma" it said. Then suddenly all the cobwebs in the part of her unused mind were blown away with a gale force wind.
She knew what it was. She looked back at the report and now all she could see was that one cold word and nothing beyond it.

It was a death sentence. The last 25 years had not had brought forth any cure for this most malignant of brain tumors.
The wretched MIL, the bane of her life and the subject of many a post on her blog had been dealt a fate worse than death.

Her thoughts flew immediately to the venom she had vented, spewed and thrown up all over her blog. Each post had given her a
lot of relief and it had gladdened her to know that she was not the only one.
Something was pressing her chest real hard as she glanced around again. These were not the types who would read her blog.
Her blog was pretty anonymous anyway so she was safe.
 
Her first post had been about the problems when the MIL first visited her. She had begged and implored her electronic chums
for any advice on how to deal with the situation.

"Take SOB into confidence tell him exactly how you feel" 'TalkingBedi' had said. She remembered that visit and how SOB had
struggled and finally crumpled when she gave him the ultimatum to pack the MIL off and ensure that she never returned.
She and MIL were like matter and anti-matter and if they ever occupied the same space at the same time there would be
complete annhilation. SOB understood and to his credit had worked very hard at brokering peace and keeping them apart.

Her victorious post titled "Gone for Good" was a raving hit.
"That's my girl" commented 'PeasInAPod' 'You rock girl, wish I could be like you' posted 'ShweetyandChulpa'.

All that didn't seem right now. The MIL's eyes were closed now her chest heaving and falling in a steady dance to the deathly
tune of the ventilator. The rest of the report now made sense. Three weeks at the most she thought.

She remembered the comment by 'Ad_wise_unlimited' to her post 'What have I done wrong?' about her realationship with MIL.

"Have patience, recognise that you are part of a dilapidated social set up. Accept it. She had played your role once and now
she wants to see you play it for her. There is nothing you can do. But one day it will all end and maybe sooner than you
think. Think of how life will be then and lift yourself up".
She had profusely thanked the commenter and praised the tactful use of philosophy and practicality.

This was that very moment.
At this moment only she knew the deathly secret contained in that brief report while the 'pack of scoundrels' still held
hope.
To her surprise she felt the initial swell of tears. This wasn't supposed to happen. She had felt nothing but hate for the
woman who lay in front of her. Yet she now felt overcome by the moment.This was her raw emotion,stripped of all her beliefs.
she stood alone in front of the maker who had ordained that one of his creations be returned to him and had chosen her to be
the first to know.

Suddenly CTa realised that her MIL would be gone but she herself would be ascending to the same role one day in this great
cycle. Her MIL would have wanted the very same things that she might want one day. Yet she had denied the MIL every bit of
what seemed now like very simple desires in comparision to the great act of life that was playing out in front of her.
She felt a strange oneness with this woman. She was reeling with the shock that her emotions were actually sympathising with
MIL while her mind was trying to remind her of the hatred.

A firm tug on the report she was reading forced her to look up at the SOB who was trying to retrieve it from her weakening
grasp. "It's getting late, the surgeon will leave in another 10 minutes. What does it say 'Yes' or 'No'?" asked the SOB.
She marvelled at his ability to keep his cool. The same cool which was the source of many a fight where she had accused him
of being incapable of emotion.

Neither his voice nor his face gave any indication of the tremendous fear, anxiety and confusion which lurked behind his eyes
something only she could feel.
She wanted to put an arm around his shoulder, she wanted to smoothen out the uncombed hair, take his face in her hands and
tell him not to worry and that she would take care of him for ever.
Instead she heard herself saying "The report is pretty vague, I wouldn't want to comment. It's best you take it to the
surgeon". SOB took the report and glanced at it folded it and thrust it into his pocket.

"Hey thanks for coming" SOB said "Well it looks pretty bad for her and she's been through a lot". "I'm off to meet the
surgeon he's only waiting for this one". CTa looked at him in the eye "Let me know what he says and especially what you
decide if they let her out of here". She had deliberately chosen the work 'if' knowing very well that there would be no
'when'.

SOB managed a smile "Sure, now don't worry about that you won't have to do anything I am trying to work out something"
They shook hands "Well, I'll be heading out have to pick the kids from Daddy's. Let me know if you are coming home tonight"
Cta said as she moved started down the passageway without pausing to turn back.


Later that night visitors to her blog found only one post titled 'The Paradox'.
Your salvation, your path to happiness and the very reason for your being here is to embrace that which you abhorr and learn
to love it .....  

Shake Rattle and Roll

Nice to hear from you again Shikha.
I have adopted this mode of replying to comments via e-mail since it gives me a feeling of communicating individually with a person.
Actually I haven't visited my own blog after the first few posts and so i don't even know how it looks like now.
Comments turn up as e-mails and I try to reply. I guess each reply ends up as a separate post.
So you see that as a reward for commenting you get a post in your honour (And my count of postings also goes up)


I also realise that I have not given credit where it is due for those two posts which look like my attempt at poetry.
Those are feeble attempts at 'Remixing' poetry. Sometimes depending on a mood or situation I am reminded of a song and sometimes it chains into a second song or a third song which all seem to relate to the same thing.
So I tried to cut and paste lyrics of two such songs which reflected my thoughts to see how it looks.

The First one is a mix of 'Another Day' by Paul McCartney and 'Another Cup of Coffee' by Mike and the Mechanics
The second one is a mix of 'A Day in the Life' by the Beatles and 'I'm so happy that I can't stop crying' by Sting.

The hand that rocks the cradle

Romance and the Indian woman HEMA SUBRAMANIAM
(From The Hindu some weeks back)

Many women in a marriage suffer from contempt bred from familiarity

This article is written solely from a women's perspective. As I write this, I sincerely hope that people who read this article are provoked — into thinking, into debates, and into action. Our society has always adopted a patronising attitude towards a woman's need for romance after marriage, kids, etc. I find that many women in a marriage suffer from contempt bred from familiarity.

But let us start at the beginning. All of us have seen weddings. There is so much of hope and prayers that the couple should be happy. When you begin with such blessings, one would think that things can rarely go wrong. Initially in most cases, the euphoria continues. Then the individual expectations set in.

There are the usual "husband-wife" fights. Trivial things, when the making up is as much fun as the fighting. But that deteriorates. Children come in. And this is when the trap closes. Children play an ironic role here: they help parents bond over the their problems, health and future. They are also the reason that most couples agree to co-exist.

Simple problem

I had a close friend who had a very simple problem in her marriage. That of apathy. Her husband just took her for granted. He most certainly cared for her, but over time, he also treated her as a part of the furniture. Her frustration steadily gave way to anger and a need for attention, romance. Her in-laws were aghast at her talk of a separation.

They felt that unless a woman is beaten, tortured (physically/mentally) and cruelly treated, there is no need for such talk of separation/divorce. And what about the children? Well, my friend also felt that children should not be victims. So she chose to stay in the marriage, to co-exist with her inert husband.

I feel our society is evolving. I don't see women continuing to placidly accept their "lot" in the marriage. I believe most of our menfolk (after the first few years of marriage) get married again. To their careers or to the television. Or something else. The wife morphs into just being the mother of the kids.

What if the woman chooses to demand more, but not get more? Would she continue to remain trapped in a superficial marriage? Would she try and seek romance elsewhere (now I am walking on thin ice…)? If she has her financial independence too (which is now common), would it not be dangerous to take her for granted?

Many times, as I have voiced this thought, men have asked me to spell out what has to be done. They are genuinely puzzled. What do their wives need? The word romance makes them squeamish and embarrassed. My only solution is to make them go down memory lane. What did they do during the engagement period, when they were wooing her? What about those heady initial days of marriage? I admit they cannot entirely re-construct that. It would be artificial too.

'Smelly socks syndrome'

I believe that most Indian marriages are emotionally unfair to the woman. After all the attention of being a PYT (pretty young thing), then a bride, then a mother, and then… then nothing. Just the monotony of everyday life. A friend once told me that marriage and children kills all romance. That it is very difficult to be romantic about someone with whom you have lived for a decade. The "smelly socks syndrome." So now, we have a discontented wife, who wants romance, but would start giggling if her husband of 15 years begins romancing her.

I believe that that apathy, emotional negligence and boredom in a marriage are going to stir up a small revolution of sorts. What is disturbing is that most men do not even acknowledge this as a serious issue. It is dismissed as something trivial. One told me pompously that there were larger issues in some marriages. But if they were to actually question this need to be romanced, actually pose this question to their wives, sisters, friends, they just might be surprised. Isn't that reason enough to call for a change?

Maybe the author has gone through all what she has written and seeks to give voice to all those feelings.
"I believe that most Indian marriages are emotionally unfair to the woman." Why  doesn't she stop at "most Indian marriages are emotionally unfair".
Well life is unfair if you chose to think of it in that way.

Maybe the trouble starts at the source.Most people don't pay any attention to the marriage vows they have exchanged. The material things, the dresses, the jewelery, the choice of the marriage hall and of course the all important 'first night' and not to forget the honeymoon overrides everything Few ever recollect and cherish the solemn vows they exchanged in the presence of the Almighty.
For if they truly believed in everything they said on that fateful day the woman and her beloved partner would not find themselves floundering in this state of flux.

The arrival of a child which is the most beautiful event in Life. The creation of Life itself which connects us to the very point of origin from where we all started is now doubted, ridiculed and feared.Cursed is our fate when this is deemed to be the cause of a woman's suffering, the loss of romance and breakdown of marriage. Can it get lower than this

It seems to have become very appropriate to use the term 'romance' and beat it to death using the stick that no man never understands it and the few who have to good fortune of  perfecting the art are dubbed fakes and charlatans.

I have had it with articles like this one and the all pervading feeling that somehow  men are to blame for the sad and unhappy lot of their better halves.
All this while it is presented that men are gallavanting and enjoying themselves while the super-wives/moms groan and moan roughshod, unappreciated , unloved and starved of that all elusive romance.

I have had enough of pandering to this feeling of being constantly accused of having gotten into this desolate state the most beautiful creation,who shares my life, my equal in every way, the reason for my very existence, the blood in my veins and the mother of our children.

If the marriage is unfair to the woman it is unfair to the main in equal measure because they have sworn to share. If she is unhappy he is too and so they remain locked in a downward spiral like water going down the drain. Soon there is nothing left.

Why don't we call a truce ?

I set you free from the imaginary chains of marriage by which you think you are bound. Go forth and soar high unfettered by the cage you think you are in. Discard the robes of motherhood that weigh heavy on you and slow your progress. Cast away the anchor that is the family you married into, unfurl the sails of your newfound independence and seek out the romance your heart desires, become the carefree person you were.
I wish you the best of luck on your journey and when you find all that you wanted and never got from me I hope you will be happy.

Then spare a moment and think and tell me if you miss my 'Smelly Socks'.