Walking with Meena!

I say this as someone who was born and raised in this colorful city for the first 2 decades of my life.  Walking in the streets of Chennai is no joke.  It has never been for the frail-hearted but it is more true today than ever before.   Taking a stroll on a suburban Chennai street alongside a procession of motorcycles, cars, auto-rickshaws, buses and school vans is a challenge that requires supreme navigation skills.  After landing in Chennai for my recent trip, I learned to my dismay that I no longer have that skill.  

If you expect the vehicles to stop and let you cross a street just because you are at a pedestrian crossing, expect to watch the day turn to dusk and still be there.  You might as well have Gandalf thumping his staff on the street bellowing 'Thou shall not pass' (for reference, watch the movie The Lord of the Rings).  So then, how does one cross a busy road in Chennai?  Making eye contact with the drivers to stare them down and then bulling your way through the onslaught of traffic is the only winning technique, as far as I know.  I admit that having been away from India for too long now, I no longer possess this ability to casually cross the street deftly navigating the rushing traffic from both sides.  I used to be very good at it but these days, I am reduced to clutching my baby sister's hands and blindly following her lead to get to the other side. Shameful? Yes indeed but I do get a kick out of reaching the other side with my limbs intact.  I am quirky that way.

Not only are Chennai's streets crowded, they are also incredibly boisterous..  That is because most drivers in this city communicate through their honking.  Even in parking-lot like traffic conditions where cars are stacked for miles ahead, you will be treated to a symphony of honking sounds from all directions.  These honks are invariably followed by some of the choicest, if not creative language, hurled by angry drivers at the cars ahead.  Where do they expect the vehicle in front of them to go when the entire city block is stuck in traffic?  Once I figure it out, you will be the first to know. 

In addition to the vehicles, I found myself  sharing the streets with a handful of cows that liked to lazily munch on the previous day's produce discarded by the vegetable vendors at street corners and a horde of street dogs that are always out and about, ready to defend their territory against intruding visitors.  If you are going to be startled every time a cow's tail brushes you or a dog bares its teeth at you or a truck speeds past you barely avoiding running over your feet, then you are not adequately prepared for your stay in this beautiful city.

If you are visiting the city after a long break like me, you are also unaware that the city's streets have fallen victim to the construction project of the Metro Rail and closely resemble a plate of  'Kothu paraatta' wherever you turn.  Patches of ground have been dug up and left on a proud display for the public everywhere.  A store that is less than 5 minutes by walk according to Google Maps takes an hour to go by car, as most streets have now been declared one-way and one has to creatively pretzel their way to their destination. 

Has this put a stop to the furious pace of life in this city?  Don't be silly.  Signs splashed across the city that claim 'Inconvenient today for a better tomorrow' have more than done their part in helping people move on with their lives without complaining.  After all, they have been sufficiently warned that it will be inconvenient.  These past 2 weeks, I have watched, in awe, all the people hopping and skirting around the many holes in the streets to go about their daily work with ease and stoic resignation.  No amount of inconvenience seem to deter the Chennaites' love of life.  "Bring it on" seemed to be the motto of folks here. Adaptability honed to perfection, I would say. 

Coming back to walking with Meena, after years of vegetating on the couch, I finally decided to sign up for a 10K walking program that started just before I left for my India trip.  The walk is only in April but apparently, one must train intensely to make this 10K walk.  I chuckled loudly when I first heard this.  Of course, I know how to walk, silly.  It is true that I don't do it often but that doesn't mean that I need training for it, right?  Wrong, said all the folks who are seasoned runners and walkers in the RHWB network.  I am now part of this amazing group and even have a dedicated coach who gives me weekly walking schedules, monitors my exercise data and keeps me going.  It is really great except that I had to start off my program with a schedule to brisk walk 7 to 8 miles on Chennai roads each week.  Oh boy!  

I will have you know that losing heart is not something folks out here do.  I may be a US Citizen today but Chennai is wired into me so I put my brain, the only thing that works reasonably well most of the time in my whole body, to work and quickly eliminated the streets of Chennai from the potential list of places to walk.  After all, how brisk can I walk if I had to constantly skirt around construction areas, cows, dogs and cars?  My sister's family suggested an alternative and thanks to them, I found a park within 2 blocks of my sister's place that had a nice walking trail and zoomed in on that as my walking space.  

I set out each morning at dawn, with a slight breeze flirting with my unruly hair, to this pretty park where toddlers came to play on the swing, seniors came to catch up with their friends sitting on the benches, college kids came to weight train together, parents brought their little ones to skate in the newly built skating ring and where I went to train for my very first 10K walk.  Most days, I could hear the faint whistle of pressure cookers from the apartments nearby where mothers had already started to cook breakfast and pack lunch boxes for the children.  

I chose not to take my phone along to listen to music during my walks in India. That's because I wanted to use the opportunity to observe life pulsing all around me and absorb the sounds and smells of my beloved hometown to bring back with me after my trip.  I even made friends with 2 small puppies that managed to slip through the gates of the park every day to romp around on the grassy area.  That park was a melting pot of all the things that I love about Chennai and I am incredibly grateful to have started my training right there.  

A huge shoutout to the head coach Bala of the RHWB network for giving me an opportunity to get off my favorite couch and go for a walk every week.  Also, thankful to my personal coach Nay for being super positive and encouraging all of us to do our best.  It was just an added bonus to sign up for this 10K with 2 of my best friends.  Would you like to walk too?  Find RHWB on FB and Instagram to get updates on their next season's schedule.  

Take it from someone who has blindly resisted every attempt to get fit for many years.  Life outside the couch is pretty great too.  Go ahead and give it a shot. 

Goodbye Amma & Appa!

 

Dun, dun, dun.... That was the sound of someone banging on the heavy metal gate in the front.  I looked up at the daily calendar and the clock on the wall to confirm that it was Tuesday 8 AM.  I was almost ready to leave for school.  I rushed to the Kitchen calling out "Amma, he is here."  Amma was busy seasoning the sambar on one stove and stir-frying green beans curry on the other.  "It is almost ready.  Ask him to come inside into the shade Meena.  I will be there soon."  

I went outside to greet the old Thatha who was our guest every Tuesday for as long as I could remember and invited him to come and sit.  He hobbled in slowly and lowered himself onto the bench in the shade.  Poverty sat on him like a worn-out comfortable shirt and I remember him always wearing it with a contended smile.  'Tuesday beggar Thatha' as I referred to him, was a steady and comforting part of my childhood.  Thatha always appeared at our door at 8 am sharp every Tuesday and my mom always served him a hearty hot meal on a banana leaf with a big glass of cool buttermilk and a banana on the side.  Governments could fall and rise on a whim but Thatha's Tuesday visit and my mother's hospitality continued for years like clockwork and left a lasting impression on me.

This week, my mother drew her last breath.  I stood by her bed with my sisters, held her hand and bid her goodbye singing her favorite hymns.  As I watched her being carried out of the house for the final rites,  I thought of her kindness towards the Tuesday Thatha and the very many people like him whose lives were made better by her.  

My mother had the unique gift to connect with people around her.  She genuinely cared about everyone's lives and wished them well.  During our many walks to the local temple during my school days, people would stop her often on the street to share their problems and seek her counsel.  They could tell her anything because they knew that she would keep their secrets.  I have always been amazed by her talent at nodding.  Her head never tired of the long hours of bobbing up and down listening to others' woes.  It seemed to bring such comfort to people.

Daughter not getting married?  In-law troubles? Rash in areas that shall not be named?  Asking my mom to pray for them seemed to be the one-stop solution for many folks.  There was an unanimous consensus in the neighborhood that the optimal way to reach God's ears was through my mother's lips.  Folks were ahead of their times as outsourcing was actively practiced by our neighbors long before the word ever got popular.  

No one entered our home and left with an empty stomach.  It was just not done.  On a normal day without visitors, my mother cooked 3 times a day for 10 people.  That was just family, mind you.  We were a bunch of picky eaters and I was the worst of all.  I got hungry really fast and threw the most colorful of all fits if I was not fed right that minute.  I don't know how my mom did not disown me for being such a thoughtless brat.  I would have done it in a heartbeat.  She always had my favorite food hot and ready anytime I came home, be it 5 pm after college or 10 pm after work.  It might be a while before I could swallow tomato rice or vathal kuzhambu sadham without breaking into tears.  

Outside of family, we had a constant stream of visitors at home while growing up.  I remember her finally wrapping up things in the Kitchen around 3 pm one day to go rest before the evening chores started when visitors dropped in unannounced.  Did she sigh and scowl like I probably would have?  No.  She greeted them with a big genuine smile and went back promptly to the Kitchen to whip up the next batch of food to feed them.  Her famed hospitality continued even when she was sick and frail in bed at the end.  When family members dropped in to check on her health, she called us closer with a weak headshake and reminded us to feed them before they left.  

Talking about being in bed, 10 days before her passing, she was on oxygen support and had trouble speaking clearly.  My sisters and I decided to take advantage of having a captive audience and practiced all the songs we were meaning to knowing very well that amma couldn't run away even if she wanted to.  After one such singing session, she slowly opened her eyes and muttered something.  As it was hard to hear her over the oxygen mask, I went closer to her and tried to listen.  Still I couldn't make out what she was saying.  'Amma, what is it?  Do you want us to sing you another song?'  To which, amma slowly enunciated "Meena, put coconut oil on your hair and braid it.  It is not like you have long hair.  Take care to keep what you have."  It took considerable effort for her to say it but that is my mother for you.  Always caring like that. 

Losing Amma 2 months after losing Appa, life feels strangely illogical.  The 2 souls that loved my sisters and I without hesitation or reservation are no more.  Navigating the rest of our journey without their physical presence seems like an impossible task but we have no choice but to try.  We were loved and cherished every moment of our lives and I am so very grateful to both of them. 

Hope you are together again on the other side with the rest of your family having a blast up in the Heavens.  Love you both so much.  We will see you in our dreams. Goodbye Amma and Appa!

Are you ready to unmask?

As we are on the brink of ringing in year 3 of the pandemic, I am proud to say that I am fully vaccinated and boosted against Covid-19.  But on the day of my booster shot last month, I did wake up feeling anxious about getting back to a post-pandemic normal life.  After a few days of pondering over my strange reaction, here are some reasons why I think the idea of unmasking is not making me jump with joy.

1. First, as a rule of thumb, I don’t jump or twirl.  I literally can’t.  I don’t have the balance for it.  Plus, I am on an injury-free streak this year and have no wish to jeopardize that.
2. I will have you know that my husband has invested heavily in masks and sacrificed a lot for the safety of our family.  In March 2020, you may remember that all the world went crazy and hoarded up masks.  It was so hard to get our hands on any, but did I lose heart and wring my hands? No sir, not me.  I immediately went online and ordered a shiny, new sewing machine and before it was even delivered, I got ready by cutting my husband’s many excellent cotton dhotis into small pieces. When the sewing machine arrived at our door the next day, it struck me that I had overlooked a small detail.  I didn't know how to sew.  Not a single button worth my spit.  Still, all was not lost.  I stored the machine inside a closet, placed an order for masks with a manufacturer in China for only a small fortune and used up all the cut pieces of dhotis around the house as rag cloths.  I figured the money I saved buying rag clothes would offset the cost of the masks from China.  I love how these things work out in the end.  Anyway, I am fairly positive that my husband has forgiven me for making koththu parotta of his dhotis.  Every time I see the sewing machine in the closet now, I remember his sacrifice and consider wearing a mask a tribute to his generosity.
3. After many months of meeting friends and family only on Zoom, I don’t know how I feel about seeing everyone back in full human form with bodies, arms and legs instead of just neck and up.  I worry about not recognizing them.  With good reason, I must say.  A lot of my new young students have only seen me on Zoom.  One such little boy knocked on my door with his father a couple of months ago wanting to get my blessings for Vijayadasami.  He looked dazed and disturbed the entire 5 minutes he was here.  He wouldn’t believe that I was the same aunty that he saw each week on Zoom.  I had sprouted legs and all, you see.  I had to finally glare at him with squinted eyes like I would in classes before he would give me a nod of acknowledgement. 
4. Do you know how much money I have saved from not going to beauty salons these past 2 years?  I can probably invest in a small condo in Alaska in another 6 months if only I keep up with this lifestyle.  Why bother buffing and polishing when no one was going to see me?  Yes, I scare myself a bit at times seeing my own reflection but hey, I throw a towel on the mirror and take care of that problem. 
5. I am afraid my rusty social skills need super heavy polishing before I can be pronounced fit to enter society again.  In pre-covid era, I have a vague memory of curving my lips upwards while meeting people.  I think it was called smiling.  The only expression that my face can remember to make any more seems to be a scowl.  Know of a place where I can sign up to relearn basic social skills? 

Looks like Covid is here to stay for the foreseeable future and we may have to learn to live with it.  The year ahead may yet be paved with anxiety and uncertainty but today, let’s give thanks to the power above for keeping us safe from Covid these past two years and march ahead together in goodwill looking forward to a better and just world.  May we all come out of this pandemic and live long, happy, and healthy lives.  Happy New Year 2022 everyone.