We should...we just should

Name of the Book: We should all be Feminists
Author: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Genre: Non-Fiction, TED Talk

Gender is an unspoken subject, brushed under the carpet,  silenced with stern looks,  buried with intimidating comments. It is an interplay of power,  of rights,  of communication,  of freedom,  of an expression of self. 

The 4th book I read this year is a Ted talk by a prominent figure.  A person who speaks her mind and states her thoughts with such clarity that with every page you turn,  she inspires you to be a bit more like her. I related with every instance she shared,  some almost seem like a deja vu. It hits home so close and you are left thinking. I felt pain and hope at the same time. I felt anger and determination at the same time. 

A book I would like Ira and every girl I know to read. The truth is some things have not changed and change will happen in pockets in every generation. We need to be a part of that pocket, the part that endures and is brave to pass on the figment of thought to the next generation. 

Looking forward to read more books by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

#Booksin2017 #Book4Review #Gender #uncomfortablereality #unspokensubject

From one grandchild to another

Grandparents are precious. I have some very close to heart memories of my thakuma (paternal grandmother),  dida (maternal grandmother) and my dadubhai (maternal grandfather).  My thakurdada (paternal grandfather) passed away when I was too small and I don't have any memory I can recall, sadly. I have only been told how he was very loving and stayed with us at Ranchi when I was about a year old.
Last few days, I have been thinking of my grandparents and a chat with Amma (Ira's Ajji) brought back these memories flooding.

         Thakurdada- Thakuma (B/W pic) and Dadubhai-Dida (Colour pic)

My  Thakuma and Dida are the most beautiful women I have ever known. Conventional bengali beauties. As a child, I always wondered why that part of the gene I missed,  mostly the impeccable nose :)
My memories of them are about food or play, the ways they expressed their love. I vividly remember my Thakuma playing bat and ball with me at the veranda of the house in Mysore. She was to return to Batanagar that day by train with Baba. She passed away some days after that and I hold on to that picture of hers. I was about 7 years old and Joy was on the way then. So,  he hasn't met our paternal grandparents. But he walks and his posture is like our thakurdada.
My dida was as loving and protective as she could be. But I also always felt having 6 daughters, she had a weakness for grandsons. That didn't mean she loved her granddaughters any less. My biggest memories of her are when she always took my side, each time I fought with my choto mashi ; the maach paaturi with alu or begun (fish in mustard paste with potato or brinjal) she made. No paaturi I have ever eaten comes close to that and my Ma does make a kickass paaturi.  Dida was a brave woman who fought cancer, who embraced pain with great dignity. We lost her to the terminal illness and lost her young. Joy was named by her,  symbolizing her happiness at his birth.
My dadubhai was as cool as cucumber. A fabulous dad and a loving grandfather. My best memories of him are his letters to me in impeccable English and my letters to him in Bangla written in an inland letter or postcard. When I was in college,  he came to Bangalore to stay with us. While the weather didn't suit him and aggravated his asthma, the fact remains that he never complained. We shared some favorite dishes like soaking the hot phulka in Masoor dal and also bhindi bhaate with shorshe tel (boiled ladysfinger with mustard oil). We enjoyed the paan flavored Polo too. He taught me patience with cards. He was a pro at bridge but I could never get a hand of that.  He stood by me during some difficult emotional times during my teens and he was there with no judgement. I want to grow up to be a grandparent like that, whose silent support is strong,  as strong as the tight hug and the loud support-slogan screams.

Also, I want Ira to build such memories about her Dadu-Dida and her Ajji. And also her Mesho-dadu and Mashi-dida who are a part of her growing years as closely as it can be. I want her to have memories of food, of love,  of play, of conversations.  Memories are not about the gifts she gets,  they are about the fact that she plays pictionary with Ajji and learns Kannada; shares a cream bun with her dadu when he picks her up and tells him stories about her school friends; tells her dida how the banana stem is yummy and sings the ghumi ghumi song that dida sings; about how the karela dish is made by her mashi dida and playing with all her kitchen vessels; and about convincing her Mesho-dadu how kanakpura is pronounced and sharing her toys stories.
I hope she makes a memory box for her grandparents, when I give her the idea- a box that will unravel her most precious memories of them in their own little way.
As she builds on her experiences and her memories, I look with pride and immense happiness because grandparents are precious and she is lucky to have them in her life.
So,  this note is from one grandchild to another,  with love.

#gratitude #grandparentsareprecious #Dadubhai&Dida #Thakurdada&Thakuma #Dadu&Dida #Ajji #Meshodadu&Mashidida #Memorybox

A year of Montessori and a befitting Gratitude List

This is a gratitude list that I write as Ira completes her first year of Montessori today. 

                                                    Final Day of Montessori Today

We are grateful for all the wonderful things listed and more. 

• Her excitement every morning to go to school. 
• Her sharing the activity that she did at school that day- pink cube tower,  number rods,  tracing alphabets or even her favorite world map and the latest, spindle box and movable alphabets. 
• The immense pretend play and all us being characters in her play along with bonnie, snowy and even checkers. 
• Telling us how a friend of hers got his tooth to school and showed them all. 
• The need to be independent- I will eat by myself and use a fork for the fruits, I will wear my own shoe and then crisscross her feet to ensure she has worn them right,  choosing the sweater or jacket for the day, carrying her own school bag. 
• Looking forward to being picked up by dadu from school when Mamma and Papa are busy at work. 
• Hugging trees on every Cubbon Park visit and climbing mini rocks when we visit an adventure camp site. 
• Discovering the joys of nimbu pani and tender coconut water and demanding for the same. 
• Inventing stories 'because' who needs a reason and telling us sternly, "guys, follow me"  as we walk the Bangalore footpaths
• We are grateful for those non stop questions,  those teary-eyed filled appeals,  those high pitched screams, those moments of terrible twos transitioning into three soon. 
• When you ask,  why do you want this? Be it a  fruit,  a sweet or some random toy and she says,  because I love it. She almost won the argument because who says no to love. 
• When she says her thank you and gives that hug on her own. Even when she refuses to acknowledge the person across,  won't say namaste or won't smile. 
• When she constantly sings, "I am hombe kaamyaab ek din..." Also, makes up her own song where you first jump on the bed, then go to Mary's lamb and then the farm and then climb the water spout. 
• When the contents of the snack and lunch box are discussed every morning and she has a glint in her eyes. Strawberries and Muskmelon ensure certain grins and so does Carrot paratha and egg. 
• When she furiously scribbles on a piece of paper and declares she has written,  IRA PRAMADH. When she colours within, beyond and across the boundaries in a colouring book. 
• When she makes a car and Papa and Mamma get turns being the green figurine because she is the blue one. 
• When she stays with one of us, while the other travels and does serious phone conversations enquiring our whereabouts. We are either in a cab,  the room or in Ben the plane. 
• A grateful plus moment of pride is when she wants you to read books every day because that is like the most normal thing to do. Books at breakfast,  Books in the evening and bedtime stories too. 
• When she comes home from school with scratches on her face or bruise on herself and tells us that she didn't push or hit in retaliation (much to the dismay of her Joi). While we want her to be strong and stand her ground, we are happy she doesn't hit back. (this can be a whole new post) 

We are grateful for all that she has felt,  experienced and learnt at her school and we are grateful to have been part of this journey with her. 

As we prepare for her long summer holidays and the summer camps she will attend, we smile and treasure all the memories this past year has given us. 

Looking forward to the next academic year already. 

Or like Ira says, "I will see you,  okay?!?!" 

The price of a dream

Name: The Spy
Author : Paulo Coelho
Genre: Based on the life of a real person, with some fictional elements

The Spy is the Story of a woman,  named:
Margaretha Zella, by her parents
Madame MacLeod, post her marriage
H21, by the Germans
Mata Hari, by herself

Many of you may know about her, I didn't when I began reading the book. It's as enthralling as every Coelho book is. I have always liked his protagonists and the manner in which he tells the stories.
For this book, I will share some of my favorite quotes and hope you find them intriguing enough to pick up the book and read.

Everyone flirts with danger, so long as the danger does not really exist.

I decided to be who I always dreamed.. And the price of a dream is always high

He knew that my tears had drained everything out of me and buried it in the sand,  where it must remain until the end of time

For certain,  I 'D go to my grave one day without ever knowing live,  but what difference did it make? For me,  love and power were the same thing

But that meant living the rest of my life split in two: as a woman who could be anything and one who was never anything, one who wouldn't have even a single story to tell her children and grandchildren

But I do not want to rush my own story

The most beautiful melody in the world will become a monstrosity if the strings are out of tune

I was going to lie and say I would be waiting for him when the war was over,  but honesty has a way of dissolving lies

I am the nightingale who gave everything and died while doing so

the injustice of which you were the victim for the sin of being a woman,  for the greater sin of being free,  for the immense sin of.....

In the battle of the sexes, all men,  no matter their expertise in various arts, are always easily defeated

Once there was a beautiful princess who was admired and feared by all because she seemed to be too independent. Her name was Psyche.

#Booksin2017 #Book3Review #PauloCoelho

Bus travel and random memories

My memories of bus travel revolve around travelling to MCC from Rajajinagar and later using the University Bus during MSc days. Some 'busstand besties' are now friends for life. Bus travel memories also remind me of my tryst with the local language,  forgetting to collect 88 Rs. (which was a lot at that time),  when I had paid 100 for a Rs. 12 ticket,  getting pick pocketed on a shopping trip to Commercial Street.
Most recent bus memories are of 2013-14 when I travelled to work by Bus while expecting Ira and Prashant dropped me to the starting depot so that it ensured a seat. I also travelled consciously on some bus days,  4th of every month.

Today,  visited a friend in Electronic City. On my return journey,  cabs refused to travel from E city to Yeshwantpur citing that it is too long a distance. While waiting for a cab to say yes,  my friend says,  take a bus part of the way! And so I did and it was like travelling down memory lane :) As I sit in another form of transport to cover the rest of the distance home,  I thought,  why not do some blogging.
#micro-blogging #bustravel #busmemories #busstandbesties 

"Buttermilk is very good for summer"

March 9th, 2017 was a momentous occasion in the Pramadh household. It was our turn to make home lunch for Ira and her friends. A fabulous concept at Jackfruit House where the parents get the opportunity to cook a full meal for their child and his/her classmates. We are diligently told when our chance is well in advance. We then have to fill a form, mentioning what we are cooking: Starter, Main course and Dessert options. The home lunches previously done give all of us some clue about what works for the kids and we all create our permutations and combinations depending on our cooking skills and comfort levels. We have seen some super creative cutlets and colourful paranthas, uthappams with paneer and corn and paddus. While the kids must be having a blast, we mommies always wish we were invited for the home lunch too (It is mostly mommies who do the home lunch. In some cases, the papas are also there). Prashant and I love cooking and can easily dish up a meal for 15-20 people. Culinary skills aside, our love for food initially made us feel more ambitious. I wanted to make carrot paranthas for the kids. Making 40-50 parathas should be ok. Then we were told that we have to cook for 35 kids. Yes, 35! Suddenly, the thought of making 70-80 parathas seemed super ambitious. Sanity prevailed and we decided a simpler menu that we both can manage between us and reach school by 11.30am. We made cucumber, tomato, green moong sprouted salad; Buttermilk, Corn and Peas Pulao, Papad and Grapes for dessert (on the request of Ira).

All cooking done and we were all set by 10.30 am. We reach school and are told food time is 12pm. I guess the 11.30 time is to avoid late latifs. Discussing whether the kids will like what we made over vada and coffee, Prashant said that while we have cooked for foodie friends and passed the test, the moment is stressful in a strange way. We walked in with all the dabbas and paraphernalia. The teachers announce what the menu for the day is and the benefits. Eg. Buttermilk is very good for summer.

The excitement and the chaos creates a musical cacophony. Hands go up asking for more butter milk or pulao or papad. The blatant honesty of kids is what makes this experience of dining unique. Kids tell you what they liked and don’t. While some took multiple helpings of the buttermilk, many said they don’t drink buttermilk. Some wanted us to remove the sprout from the salad and some wanted extra corn to be separated and served with the pulao. Conversations accompanied the food and the hour went by pretty quickly. As we wrapped this home lunch and walked out of school, we began talking about….what shall we do for the next home lunch?! Ira, of course was happy to have mamma papa at her school and when her teacher offered to feed her because she was taking her own sweet time, she said, “No! I want to eat by myself”! Another Iraism we feel happy about. Wonder what Ira will request for next year!

Till then, the first home lunch memories are here to stay.

A toast to a bunch of women I met this year.

Behind,  beside,  alongside every successful woman is another woman or women who have encouraged her,  laid her fears to rest,  shared her tears and her joys,  had that cup of chai and samosa over unending conversations, have spoken of heartbreaks,  triumphs, tribulations. Have helped her find her inner strength,  find the wind beneath her wings. They have together laughed and reminisced about childbirth moments, shared daily nitty-gritty, they have grown together. They may know each other for a short time or for all their lives. But every woman,  has another woman or many a women.... who have been with her on this journey of life.
I am blessed and I feel grateful that I have fabulous women friends- independent,  strong, honest, loving and accepting. They have made me a better person and seeing all the good things about them,  I strive to be a bit of all that goodness and learn some of their magical evil tricks too. On women's day this year,  I would like to raise a toast to a bunch of women I met this year.

As Ira entered the walls of her montessori,  I stepped into the world of mommies, literally. I always wondered how it would be. An extrovert like me but I can be tongue tied in the most simple situations. As Ira made friends,  we mommies made friends too. Thanks to technology and the ease it promises,  we formed a WhatsApp group. We shared our anticipations,  doubts,  fears and our joys. This became a group where we discussed everything,  the holiday list,  the notices that came crumpled in our little ones little hands,  the PTMs, the celebrations and dress codes. We also had our share of tough discussions and disagreements. This group was like a knowledge repository and any KM (knowledge management) professional could take cues on the KS and KT (knowledge sharing and knowledge transfer skills). Finding the perfect tailor,  finding the poms poms for school functions,  the place with the softest thatte idli, the store for craft items and talking about lost items at school. We fervently discussed home lunch menus and memorized the rhymes our little ones said. This was like quora and wikipedia all wrapped into one. We mommies slowly began to know more about each other thanks to the breakfast meets and some shopping and occasional outings. We encouraged and shared the enthusiasm of anyone who began a venture,  anyone who got a new job and anyone who did something creative. For moments when one of us felt low, there was a bunch of us to lift our spirits and make us feel better. We made memories together that go beyond the forwards shared and the photos uploaded. As our babies grow  and complete a year of school,  we mommies have also come a long way. We have found soulful conversations,  common dreams,  matching hues to our stories. We have experienced the power of women friends through this new group of friends that we have made.
So,  happy women's day ladies!! Let's raise a toast to every woman in our life.
#mommies #happywomen'sday #memories

Because a little girl dreams on

Been meaning to write this post for over a week now! Hoping memory does justice.
I attended the NASSCOM Diversity and Inclusion Summit 2017 on 27th and 28th of Feb,  2017. The discussions ranged on current practices in organizations, what is being done,  changes at policy level,  how change has to be a participative measure and driven from the top.  Here are a few thoughts from across sessions that stayed with me.
Bring your whole self to work
Making people count
Focus on skilling and re-skilling
Understand enablers and disrupters
Do away with the unconscious bias - stop asking, am I good enough
The diversity agenda has to be handled one step at a time
Gender neutral mentoring
Create enabling ecosystem
Support has to be pervasive in nature
D&I part of business strategy
Advocate for change-be a part of the change

I personally love what is written on the satchel, 'Because a little girl dreams on'. Diversity comes in all colours and hue and time we have a sense of pride about being champions of diversity. A journey that must begin at home even as organizations make strides in their initiatives.

#diversity&inclusivity #advocateforchange #lettheconversationsbegin