Little Kindnesses of Women

I'm planning my honeymoon trip last minute. I call my bestfriend to tell her. She is so happy, she tells me her Polaroid camera is mine to take and that she'll pack me some farsan and bhata (food you carry while you travel). I tell another friend, and she has called me home to give me all her nice accessories, 6 different sunglasses and even arranged for her mom to show me earring options if I wanted. On the day I have to leave, my bestfriend's food parcel arrives, neatly packed with cute notes and definitely packed with more quantity than I asked for, along with an extra box of my favourite dish to eat in the airport if I get hungry. And rightly as predicted, I polish the box off before I make it to boarding. ❤️

I'm back from the trip and it is almost the end of the month. My sister tells me she needs to buy another birthday outfit. I ask her what happened to the last one? She casually says I gave it to you for your honeymoon photoshoot. I'm horrified. Why didn't you tell me it was new and that you were saving it for your birthday? She simply says if I did, you wouldn't have taken the dress with you and gotten such beautiful pictures. I'm speechless. She says now help me pick another one. ❤️

I tell myself Indian women are unmatched in their love, they're the best.

It is lunch time, I'm onboard. I'm stood deciding whether to take Basmati rice or sticky rice onto my plate. Cindy (Cinderella) my crew walks in and she's wearing beautiful beige corduroy bottoms which look like the picture of comfort. I tell her I'm obsessed with her pants. She confirms they're indeed very comfortable, we chat for a bit and then go on to eat lunch at our respective tables. Next morning I'm at the mess room again, drinking tea and asking my crew about their jobs while Cindy walks in with a pair of black corduroy pants in her hands saying she has another pair of those comfy pants that I really liked and asked if I wanted to try them. She says "it has some elastic at the waist, you should try it Chief and if it fits you, you should take it". I tell her but I'm not even close to your size and we laugh. I'm so touched. ❤️

It is a bright, chilly morning in Antwerp, Belgium. I've gotten permission to go ashore. After an unexpected visit from the port authorities in the morning, I'm running to my cabin to shower and get ready. I shout out to my Chinese cadet on the way to fill up my water bottle too. A few hours later, we're on the road and I'm thirsty, I take a sip and the water is very warm and not what I expected. I make a face. She sees me and says "Chief iss very cold ousside you know, you needa drink hot-uh wat-ur, not cold-uh wat-ur. Iss no good for you" 

*dismissive hand action*

I have zero complaints after that ❤️

It is a hot day in Lagos, Nigeria. We've already finished 4 ship-to-ship operations, with 2 more to go. The routine has become so tiring and machine-like. There has been very little rest interspersed in between way too much action. I had skipped breakfast that day because we were called in an hour early. When I came back later to grab a toast and some tea, I noticed a small packet of 4 biscuits. I ripped it open in hunger and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet and salty, midly spicy and herby taste. It was fantastic. I turned the packet around to find it was made in Bangladesh, even though the taste was so familar to me I assumed it was Indian. I made a mental note to ask my Bangladeshi Engine Cadet about it. When I ask her later, she is so happy that I would like a simple biscuit so much. I tell her it reminds me of Maska Chaska. Few days later she catches me on the staircase and hands me 7-8 more packets saying "ma'am I want you to have this". I refuse instantly, she is a cadet, a child. Ofcourse I couldn't take from her. I tell her she's going to stay longer onboard and she would need it more than me. She asks me not to worry and thrusts them into my palms with a smile. She says please have it for me, it will make me happy ❤️

I walk down with all the biscuit packets in my hand when I run into the Bangladeshi Fifth Engineer coming back from the Engine Room. She recognises the biscuits and asks me, I tell her what happened with the Engine Cadet and how grateful I was for all the love. She is amused, she only listens and smiles the whole time. Later I find another 6-7 packets of the biscuit left quietly on my table, this time from the Fifth Engineer who says she wanted to give me some too ❤️

I'm starting to think it's an Asian women thing.

I've barely been onboard 2 weeks. One day I notice 2nd officer's different looking beverage mug. I ask her about it. She shows me with excitement how it has an attached tea strainer and I'm thoroughly impressed with the design. I quickly search for it on Amazon but cannot find it. She hands over duty to me and goes down to rest in her cabin. A few minutes later, she is back with her phone in her hand, asking me to pick a color. I see the same mug on the screen on a shopping website. I say- but how do I get it? I don't live in the Philippines. She says she'll order it to her house and have it Dunzo-ed to anyone who is joining next from Manila to bring it onboard. Before I could politely say no I don't want to be of any trouble, she has already placed the order. We don't even know when the next crew change might happen, but the kindness in her didn't need all that information. I tell her I need more things from the website just so she won't refuse my money when I pay. ❤️

It's after dinner. I've eaten something wrong and I have severe indigestion. I have terrible nausea and stomach pain followed by diarrhoea throughout the night. I cannot catch even a few undisturbed minutes of sleep except when I'm resting on the toilet waiting for the next wave to hit. The next morning I'm given a sick day and told to rest. My Chinese cadet at lunch time, texts me full sentences asking about my "abdominal pain and distension"- using words I know that she doesn't yet have in her very limited vocabulary. She is using Google translate to enquire about my health and talk to me. ❤️

We are all in the recreation room talking about silly, random, happy, good things while listening to our fellow Filipino crew singing karaoke. When we talk about weight, I mention I have PCOS and my Third Engineer asks me what it means. I explain it to her to the best of my ability. She is very sympathetic. A few days later she is at my doorstep with a yogurt container. I'm confused. She opens it and it is actually filled with flax seeds, not yogurt. She tells me she read online about PCOS and learnt that seed cycling helps, so she brought what she had with her to share with me. She gives me instructions on how to consume it and checks with me every now and then if I've started ❤️

Dawn is breaking and morning light is slowly flooding into the previously pitch dark wheelhouse. I can now see the shape of an unusual little glass bottle on the chart table. My chief-officer-ears perk up 'was somebody drinking alcohol from a sample bottle on duty?' I go closer to pick it up and it says "Katinko oil" on the label, "used for all pains and aches. Made in the Philippines". I open the bottle and take in the smell, a familiar note hits my nose- Axe oil. It smells so similar to axe oil and all the other menthol oils that my family is addicted to and I've grown fond of. I tell my cadet about it. She asks my permission to go down and bring her own version of it, a Chinese pain relief oil. My Filipino third officer, the owner of the Katinko oil bottle has also joined us on the bridge. We exchange our balms and oils with eachother giggling at this guilty pleasure. My third officer without a second thought tells me she would leave me her bottle when she signs off in a few days, because I said I liked it and it reminded me of home. ❤️

So many different women, all with the same thread of love and kindness innately woven into their beings. I've seen this quality over and over again in the women around me, across ages. They tap into this natural ability to be kind and beautiful without any prompt, any cue. If they see you enjoy something, they'll stock more of it at home. If they know you like a particular color, they will video call you from the store when they see something they think will look nice on you. They will cook you your favourite food and remember things that are important to you. They will excite with you and worry with you. Women are the gold standard. Women make this world an infinitely better place. ❤️

When Breath Becomes Air - Book Review

I am terribly heartbroken, there is truly no other way to explain how deeply moved and bereaved I feel on completing this book. I bought this book nearly 3 years ago as soon as I saw my friend Snegha Ananth's instagram post. I don't know why I set it aside for so long but the timing is almost unbelievable (for me to decide I wanted read a book about death at a time like now). I only wish I had finished this book back at home, where I still had the chance to run into the next room and hug everyone. 

This book is riddled with Dr Paul Kalanithi's thoughts, emotions and unavoidable pain through his cancer diagnosis and treatment. His writing is honest-to-God a blessing upon us all. I had to stop every now and then just to admire the depth and ease with which he wrote, the ascendancy with which he quoted poets and writers. I cannot get over many many paragraphs of this book where he proves himself to be simple, profound, a brilliant mind, and a true genius. One example would be:

"As graduation loomed, I had a nagging sense that there was still far too much unresolved for me, that I wasn’t done studying. I applied for a master’s in English literature at Stanford and was accepted into the program. I had come to see language as an almost supernatural force, existing between people, bringing our brains, shielded in centimeter-thick skulls, into communion. A word meant something only between people, and life’s meaning, its virtue, had something to do with the depth of the relationships we form. It was the relational aspect of humans—i.e., “human relationality”—that undergirded meaning. Yet somehow, this process existed in brains and bodies, subject to their own physiologic imperatives, prone to breaking and failing. There must be a way, I thought, that the language of life as experienced—of passion, of hunger, of love—bore some relationship, however convoluted, to the language of neurons, digestive tracts, and heartbeats."

Many a books have been good, even great, but for a book's foreword and epilogue to also win my heart, this should be a first. Must must must read. Easily one of the best books I've ever read. Tell me if you've read it, I would love to share favorite quotes with you. ❤️

26 Feb 2019

The Covenant of Water - Book Review

*contains spoilers*

I started listening to 'The Covenant of Water' (on Audible) almost 3 months ago. Like many other books (or any projects) I've undertaken in the last few years, I slouched through it. I didn't respect it enough and give it the time and effort a good book really deserves. And when I did start, I was extremely put off even angered by the way Abraham Verghese quite casually wrote about and romanticized underage sex in the beginning with little Mariamma. Although he was very delicate with her fears and feelings when she was 12, he somehow figured she stopped being a child when she was 16?! I understand that the Parambil story takes place in the early 1900s, that the circumstances and the plot are all a product of their time; but I also think as an author who has the power of influence, he has the obligation to reference history as it was without glorifying it, without making his writing rosy and nostalgic for a past where some things were considered normal, while infact they are wildly inappropriate (now and then). It's not that the author is incapable of this fine distinction, I found his dialogue on caste and the abhorrence of the girl child very well done. I immediately sided with Big Ammachi, I wanted to slap Philipose when he stepped back from his baby girl. I was most pleasantly surprised when Joppan-in a very nuanced but strong way- brought up the privileged oversight of his bestfriend and his family towards the pulayars' contribution. Those were honestly my favourite parts of the whole book. I felt like the author failed me monumentally not once but twice by allowing the 'much older man-very young woman' dynamic to play out, seeking the reader's validation of the couple with emphasis on the girl's consent. Either time it DID NOT sit well with me. Was little Mariamma really old enough to consent? And isn't it the older person's obligation, I'd argue duty, to reject such advances? How young is really old enough for a man stop to seeing a child as a child? And how much age gap is really acceptable before the man finds it creepy? Especially when you knew the girl as a 7-8yo child and you were in your 20s? I felt for both the girls, wanting to run into the book and save them. 

When I decided on this book, one of the reasons I picked it was it's length. I wanted to have something I could listen to in parts, over a long period of time while I'm onboard. I was confident I wouldn't be able to get through it at home, I mean it was 34h worth of content. However, the stunning narration, the little sprinkles of jokes interspersed throughout the book, the ease with which the author changed accents, the way the characters grew on me, the slow-but-never-boring-for-even-a-second story extended over 3 generations of the same family, the same house and village, all made it impossible for me to put it down. I was so into it, I'd spend hours listening to the book throughout my day. I was completely and easily transported to 'pandathe' Kerala within minutes. I particularly loved the pre-independence details, the development of characters, the depth in which 'The Condition' and 'Leprosy' or any medicine in this book was discussed (I'm a nut for medicine). 

I see why it is such an acclaimed book and Abraham Verghese's un-heavy, thorough, well-rounded writing deserves it. Despite my aversion to some parts, I'd still count this one among the top books I've had the pleasure to read.

The end of a lifetime, in the middle of one.

Thank you so much for understanding Achu. You are right when you say you're asking a lot from me when you want us to settle down in your village. And even though I would selflessly defend you and try to convince you otherwise, there is always going to be a small little yearning inside my head. Because all my life I've only lived in a city. I have always been at walk-able distance from everything: super markets, shopping malls, railway stations. And I love being in a city. I love taking the bus, I love fighting with auto walas, I love shopping and I love going to fancy restaurants. There are some big 5star hotels here and also some small eat outs. There is always something to do, someone to meet, someplace to be at or something new to try. You know how we keep complaining that we have no free time to even sleep peacefully? Secretly, everyone who lives like this must find it very pumping, it adds some sort of an action element to their lives, some purpose. That's why they never leave. They never leave the city for too long. It is like an addiction. That is also why I'm growingly unsure about how I'll deal without all this noise and crowd and happening-ness.

Well, I'm guessing its going to be really quiet over there. Even during the day. May be with some pretty birds and sweet grass and fresh air. I will find it very nice and relaxing for the first few days, may be even a month. After that? I'm definitely going to start craving some city-ness, even just the sheer feeling of it. What will I do with my free time then? I mean I've never taken a mofussil bus to go into the city for anything. I've sort of lived in the city. And I probably have never done most of the stuff you do with habitual ease. Like waking up super early and taking a bath in the river, sleeping before 10pm or even swimming for instance, it is your second nature, but people pay and take classes here, in my city. Sometimes I tell myself, I'm only a hyper youngster who wants all of this now and may be 4-5 years down the lane, I will want to settle down and do less of this and more of setting up a family for myself. By then most of my friends will be married, so I guess I'll get into the groove of it too. I won't have anyone to be wild with. We'll all have families of our own and crazy wives and husbands getting on to our nerves. So I may be okay with it. Okay with getting my own base camp.

Even otherwise, that's how a girl's life is supposed to be, no? She is supposed to leave behind everything she grew up building for herself since she was a girl and go be someone else's wife and pretend like that is what she wants. Sure, every girl wants a car, house, curtains, plants, dogs, kids and a husband. But I don't think any girl would like to leave her parents or siblings if she had a choice. Especially if she came from a family like mine where we do almost everything together. So much that sometimes we dog-pile and tickle the youngest and burst into laughter. I can't imagine a day without them. I mean I can't even write these lines without going through the agony of imagining it. I really don't have a clue as to what I'll do when I do actually get married. I'll probably sit down and cry like a baby holding onto the diwan in my hall. You may have to drag me out. But then all that is for a future day. Right now, thanks. Thanks for understanding that I have a life too, a family and a lifetime of memories too.

Thanks for not being regular and telling me that I have to leave home some day anyway and that it is my destiny. Usually that's what happens, people NEVER realize how a girl's life is practically over once she is married. It never occurs to them at all. It is a girl's obligation by default to leave her family and all that she grew up with, just to be some man's wife and many-a-times mean nothing to him and have no respect in his house. Sure, we all say that we'll continue to do the things that interest us and our men say that they'll find time to spend with us even after we're married and that nothing will change. But then how many times have you seen your mom read her favorite book in the middle of the night with a bowl of maggi? Or your dad climbing into the house through the balcony because he was drunk and scared of knocking the door? You haven't. Because she has to wake up at 5 to get you a decent breakfast and lunch. And he cannot risk falling with an important meeting scheduled this week which could bring him an increment. That's what happens. We grow up and embrace more and more responsibilities and we make space for them like how we remove the older, less used apps on our smart phones - we cut down on our hobbies and interests.

Sigh.
I know it sounds really sad and tiring. But it can't be that bad, can it? I mean so many people got out of it alive and happy. They must have found something right, something worth sticking to. I could get there too, to my happily ever after, if I search hard enough, be open about everything else that I will gain, like the first words of my child, the undivided love of a family - my family, and then if I never lose hope that I'm going to find it..find the
balance that makes every loss worth while, I just might.

--- The End ---

Jan 2014

Lights and Planes

I have been a seafarer for 9 years now which means there have been many many happy homecomings and too many sad, tearful goodbyes. So much so that I now have a goodbye routine- A well practised drill, a 'before leaving home' checklist I follow everytime I have to leave home and join a ship so that I don't let my emotions overwhelm me into missing out on the important things. My list is thorough and goes from small things like 'buy pens' to big and most necessary items like 'buy seedai, peanuts and instant pepper rasam'. My list also reminds me of all the people I want to meet and say goodbye to, personally. Most of my friends and relatives only get phone calls or text messages as I barely have time before joining. Being an A1 procrastinator I pretend that I'm not going anywhere so I won't have to spend my last few days at home weighed down with the sorrow of leaving. I inevitably scramble in the end to buy all the things I need and assemble my suitcase. In the little time I do find in this self-created mayhem, I like to stay at home as much as possible. I eat my favourite things and lounge around talking to everyone, absorbing 'home' as it is. I also lie down on my bed a lot because that's one of the things I miss the most onboard - my bed (also my sleep). Those last few days being quite precious, I meet very very few people and one top person on my list is Athai- it was actually Avva AND Athai for the longest time. I usually drive down the 2 streets from my house to talk to them and tell them when I would be leaving and how soon I'll be back and what kind of ship I was going on. Avva would always tell me- come soon and get married so that I can see the celebrations while I'm still here. She'd then tell me how smart and capable I was and how my grandfather would've been so proud if he could see me now. She'd ask me if I had money and press a few notes into my hand even when I promise her I have enough. She'd then bless me and apply some vibhuti on my forehead after saying a short prayer. After that, it would be Athai's turn. She'd also bless me and remind me to stay safe and work safely. It was always the same with them. There was a certain dependability to that routine, a certain constancy. It was the same every year and it gave me so much peace and comfort. I always left feeling grateful. We grieviously lost Avva a couple of years ago (may God bless her good soul) so it is only Athai now. 

 When I reached her house in December it was already past her bedtime but Athai was sitting there waiting patiently for me because she knew I had an early flight the next day and that was the best time I could do. I went in and we chatted for a bit, both of us quietly remembering how that moment was missing an important person, feeling the large gaping hole of her memory. We prayed to her, Athai then wished me a safe flight and a safe contract onboard. When I was about to leave, she asked me what time my flight was and I said we'd be departing at 6am. She immediately recalled how she can see planes flying in and out at really low heights from her terrace. She told me if I could spare a minute she wanted to show me where the flights came from. I have lived in West Mambalam longer than she has and I know where the planes came from, I remember watching them as a kid from our terrace and feeling so mesmerized. I was also really tired that night and I still had a long list of things to go through before I hit the sack but I went anyway because she seemed so excited. When we reached the terrace, she showed me the direction of the airport. She said if we waited a few minutes, we were sure to catch one leaving or entering. She then showed me Pothys, the Rangarajapuram flyover, the railway station and the church. Athai grew up in Madurai and I think for a few years even in Triplicane. But she lived most of her life in Dindigul and Madurai. Earlier whenever she'd come to visit us during the summers or any other holidays, she'd always be itching to go to TNagar. It's not as though she was a big shopper, she just loved the hustle bustle of the shopping area. She'd quietly sneak out when everyone took their afternoon naps and walk her way to TNagar from my house. She'd stroll around the place, take in all the colorful sights and sounds, get her heart full and come back home, only to get an ear full from Avva who would never understand why Athai wanted to go to TNagar so much, every year, even though she hardly ever bought anything. But none of that ever stopped Athai, TNagar was the New York of her world and she loved it. Only a few years ago, both Avva and Athai permanently moved to Chennai because it was easier for dad this way to take care of them and they naturally found a house closer to ours (thus closer to TNagar too). 

 Athai was so joyful that night because we could see most of the brightly lit TNagar shops from her terrace. She showed me some of her favorite buildings which had fancy LEDs making beautiful patterns in the night sky. She said she comes here ever so often just to sit around, get some air and admire the lights. I was so moved hearing this because I couldn't remember the last time I did something so simple as stand on my terrace and watch aeroplanes or lights. For a second, I forgot where I was or where I had to be and only stood there taking it all in. That night I rode back home missing Avva who would've definitely scolded us both 'ladies' for going to the terrace 'so late at night' but also felt extremely grateful that Athai took me up there and shared her happy TNagar lights with me. 

Gaythri Madhavann

18 April 2020

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck - Book Review

An insightful and interesting self-help book written by a potty-mouth author- I should've been warned about how much cussing I was to anticipate just reading the title. I listened to the audiobook version so there was no skimming of swear words for me. This may seem an overreaction considering how common it is now to throw in a few F words here and there in content, but I'm a bit old fashioned and enjoy a decent read which won't make me scrunch up my nose ever so often.

The book talks about various aspects of our personalities, how we base our choices, how we arrive at how we feel, and it allows you to sort of run little reality checks on yourself. I appreciate how honest the author is about his revelations, successes, failures and problem areas, good and bad alike. It talks about entitlement, loneliness and I like that the book explores the influence of a smartphone-and-internet-dependent lifestyle on a generation that is materially rich and emotionally drained out, making the book that much relatable. I felt enriched and enjoyed his inferences, stories and analogies; he effortlessly breaks things down to the easiest level possible.  Although I do wonder if it is accurate to assume all of us are basically similar people with similar abilities who can follow similar tactics to address similar/all sorts of problems. Does one size really fit all?

My favorite quote from the book: "Whether you're listening to Aristotle or the psychologist at Harvard or Jesus Christ or the goddamn Beatles, they all say that happiness comes from the same thing- caring about something greater than yourself. Believing that you are a contributing component in some much larger entity, that your life is but a mere side process in some great unintelligible production. This feeling is what people go to church for, it's what they fight in wars for, it's what they raise families and save pensions and build bridges and invent cellphones for. This fleeting sense of being part of something greater and more unknowable than themselves. And entitlement strips this away from us. The gravity of entitlement sucks all attention inward toward ourselves causing us to feel as though we are the centre of all the problems in the universe, that we are the one suffering all of the injustices, that we are the one who deserves greatness over all others. As alluring as it is, entitlement isolates us. Our curiosity and excitement for the world turns in upon itself and reflects our own biases and projections onto every person we meet and every event we experience...it is spiritual poison."

Man's Search For Meaning by Viktor Frankl - Book Review

The preface to this book has a wonderful first line- "Typically, if a book had one passage, one idea with the power to change a person's life, that alone justifies reading and re-reading it and finding room for it on one's shelves. This book has several such passages."

I vouch for it. I've come to believe that books like life experiences, come into our lives at certain points when we are ready to receive what the book has to offer us, or when we are about to enter a phase in our lives for which the book/experience futuristically prepares us. There is so much one learns from a good book, to quote Vivienne Westwood, "It is the most concentrated experience you can have. You know, all those incredible geniuses concentrated their lifetimes' experiences in books." How much I have learnt from this book can be guessed quite easily from the number of highlighter flags on the side (So excited about my discovery of them, they're so easy to use and bring me so much joy!). Viktor Frankl was a decorated psychotherapist so I went into this book expecting to understand the meaning of life in a scientific or a theological way. This book however is about human endurance, it teaches you of the innate ability of the human mind and body to stretch itself in order to accommodate any amount of suffering as long as you will it to. It teaches you that suffering gives life meaning and about the unique connection between your mental and physical health. If you allow yourself to be humanized by his retelling of the Holocaust- how the prisoners of the camps soldiered on through everything that was meant to puncture their bodies, break their wills and crush their souls- this book is also a bearer of courage and hope. I would be doing a lousy job if I didn't record just how brilliant his writing is. I suspect this is the kind of book one re-visits from time to time to remind oneself of what we are capable. Must must read and re-read!