Loving my Body

:) Today I am in love with my weighing scales because they showed me a number i am happy with and they give me hope for the future. After having been on a detox diet for one week, today is the day i celebrate! Not that i am anywhere near what my "ideal weight" is supposed to be, but there is this satisfied feeling of having spring-cleaned my insides and being healthier than what i was a week back :)

Feeling so upbeat this morning, it got me thinking how little attention was paid to our bodies as we grew up. In my own home, healthy eating was quite broadly tackled, exercise never encouraged. (When asked what my favourite vegetable at dinner time was - "egg" came the prompt reply!)School was even worse. Marching, throw ball and basketball was as sporty as one could get (the games we invented during the lunch break gave us far more stamina anyway!)

In the teen years, attention to body didn't go beyond the occasional pimple on the face. Thankfully we weren't so exposed to the fashion & beauty industry standards and never got into fad diets. But there was no concept of enjoying one's body. Bharatnatyam that i learnt was more a performance oriented thingy. First gym enrolment in early 20s happened again only to tackle weight issues.

I guess what i missed most in my early years was this thought that one's body is a gift to be thankful for, a creation to be nurtured, a treasure to be enjoyed.

Thankfully the Universe was benevolent and things have taken a turn in the past few years. First big eye opener was being in circle of women where we worked with connecting emotions with our body and healing from within. It was also where i learnt the moon meditation, a unique and simple way of connecting my body and her energies to the moon. A healing massage set chronic aches right and therein came my next eye opener. All through was an inspiring sister, who though took things to levels more extreme than my own comfort, was working on and talking about the right things. She also recently introdcued me to the dry brushing technique which i totally swear by. Next was the beginning to enjoy green tea. Weaved in somewhere were being with two immensely talented people - my pedicurist and my accupressurist. A couple of books i enjoyed reading were Skinny Bitch and You can Heal your Life. A short stint with Bollywood dancing (which my mind and body have totally blanked out!). Then - the best gift i gave myself - swimming lessons and thus started a never-ending love affair with the pool! And viola! me and my body now good friends (with HUGE fights occasionally but overall in a good relationship!)

So now as a mother, i am hoping to do the right things for my child. This summer was a lot of body focus. We did 'Body Talk' a fun workshop for children to express through their bodies, and then there was swimming. Two weeks back we enrolled into skating. Back at home, we dance a lot. And of course rough and tumble play precedes the story time ritual at bedtime.

All in all, my body is happy and (to quote Louise Hay) all's well with my world!

Rooting for the Underdog

Little Nia is in a very good mood (having just realized that tomorrow is the last day of her swimming classes) and is celebrating by walking around the house singing "pappu can't dance". I, in one of the rare moments in the history of our household, am in the kitchen cooking (smileys - to keep up with the partying child!). In walks nia with a very puzzled look on her face, here's what follows:

nia: mamma, why didn't pappu come for the party?

me: he was there in the party nia

nia: then why are his friends saying he can't dance?

me: well what they mean is that is is not able to dance - that he is a bad dancer

nia: oooooh! they are teasing him? poor pappu!

me: Yup (and getting ready for the next question. but out walks nia continuing to sing the song)

3 mins later:

nia: mamma, they are also saying pappu guitar bajaata hai (pappu can play the guitar).

me: that's right baby

nia: (face all bright) ah! now when his friends tease him, pappu can sing - mere dost guitar nahi bajaa sakete saala! (my friends can't play the guitar)

and out she walks singing "my friends can't play the guitar dhir kitana dhir kitana"....fixing the world in her own simple ways!

What a day!

Ginger chai and pakoras was what i wished for as i woke up this morning. Instead what i got was potato soup, corn & onion bread, raisin bread, a choice between mango spread and cheese spread, fried rice, steamed unpolished rice from Pondicherry and finally chocolate cake for dessert - and all this home made! Ah and some lovely herbal tea & spicy nuts as we watched the evening rains lash out on the trees and the roof. All thanks to the warmth and generosity of a couple friend who invited us over for lunch. This amazing couple i know living a simple, earth friendly life, asking the right questions, spending as much time in thought as in action and always maintaining a deep relationship with nature. As i spent a day, nourished by the food and my conversations with them, it got me thinking what it means to truly respect earth, the way i see these two wonderful people do.

It means, to be able to say "I don't need much to be happy in life." And truly mean it. Simple needs. No hoarding, no cluttering, no wastage. Being willing to share everything. (After the delicious meal, the leftover yummy bread and cake generously packed for us to take to the others back at home!)

It means to to never look for instant gratification and put love in whatever one does with one's hands. To experiment with materials, arrangements, textures, flavours. To be willing to create - at one's pace.

It means to be aware of and appreciate the perfection of nature around - in the earth tones and textures, the seed pods, the hollow gourds, the bird nest dropped off the tree by the wind, the tastes and colours of the nascent vegetable patch, the blazing sky at sunset.

It means to slow down one's pace and to sync one's own rhythm to the day's rhythm. To start the day early, rest at mid-noon, slow down as the night creeps in.

It means to work wholly with one's body - and not just with the mind. A little thinking, a little talking and discussing, a little of working with hands in silence and a little of watching and observing and absorbing.

It means welcoming others into one's life with warmth, generosity and respect. To be sensitive to what the other person wants and to give as much as one can. Be it exploring questions raised, sharing food or even working with beads and threads with the little child craving for attention in the middle of all that adult time!

For me it was a day to rest, to think, to observe, to enjoy and just feel special. Thank you my dear friends for this truly special day!

For a Friend

Had a great experience with children in class the other day which i thought i absolutely must document. We are doing myths and mythology as part of our Summer Camp theme. In each session, we share an interesting story from Indian mythology with the kids and have a follow-up activity. In one of the classes i did with the 4-6 year olds, I shared the story of Krishna and Sudama. And of course in my self-righteousness (and indignation at the return-gifts culture of birthday parties!) totally focussed on how Sudama took a simple and yet thoughtful gift for Krishna. At the end of the session, i got each child to make a picture for one's best friend - which one could then gift to this friend. Here's some of the responses by children:

Nidhi - i will make balloons for my didis (and she tells me names of three older children from her apartment complex).
me: Are they your friends Nidhi?
Nidhi: No but if i give them the balloons, they will be!

Shreya (also drawing balloons) - i want to give toys to my friends but i can only draw balloons.

Ruhi - I don't have one best friend - everyone is my friend. I will make gifts for EVERYONE! (Ms. Universe in the making?!)

Nia: (mistaking Ruhi to be lonely, i guess) It's ok Ruhi, you can be my best friend (they've met three days back for the first time!). I will make you a gift and also allow you to come and play with Foster (a dog who she was making a picture for originally)

Sameer: My best friend is Shubham and i will make a gift for him (draws something that looks like a spaceship and finishes coloring it in 3 mins flat). Hey Shubham - here your gift is ready.
Shubham: what is this?
Sameer: This is you (that's when i notice the smile and eyes on the spaceship thingy!)
Shubham: very nice. I will also make a picture of you (makes eyes and smile on the house he was drawing)
Me: i thought your best friend was Sanjana.
Shubham: Yes but now it is Sameer (oh well!)
30 secs later, drawing discarded, these two "best" friends are wrestling in the corner!

Suhrud: (has made quite a detailed picture and done a fairly neat job of colouring it) I was actually making it for (and gives me names of two girls) but i like this picture and they always fight with me. So i am giving this to me. (ah! All's fair in ....!)

Nia: (comes to me) I hope it's ok that you don't have anyone making a picture for you...maybe it's because you only like simple gifts.

So here's the friendship rule book i got to check out as the children shared their world with me that day in class:
Rule # 1 - there is really no concept of "BEST FRIEND".

Rule # 2 - I will offer friendship to whoever is around (and then again it's ok to change my mind)

Rule # 3 - I give you the best thing i can create!

Rule # 4 - I form my relationships not based on how the other person is or treats me, but purely on how i feel about the other person.

Rule # 5 - In the world of friends - there are endless possibilities of relating and giving! So who needs the rule book anyway??!

i talk , therefore i am

In the middle of my summer camp, working with children between 4 to 6 years in the morning and then with 7 to 11 years in the afternoon. I find this time of the year both demanding and satifying. While i enjoy developing content for the older batches, i love the time i spend with the younger ones. The difference i discovered early on in my work with children is that the younger they are, the more open they are to a variety of learning experiences. Their reactions and responses are brilliant in their originality. And they respond out of the excitement to learn and not to appear "cool" with other peers like the older ones do!

Also, yesterday in the middle of the session with the older kids, another contrast struck me - the HUGE difference in the noise levels. As children get older, the decibel levels also increase quite drastically. So the loudest group i need to tolerate (rather badly i admit) is the 9-11 year olds. They are REALLY loud - be it when responding to what i am sharing , or asking for things or simply while talking to one another. As a teacher – I myself don’t set a great example – shouting over the children’s voices to be heard and (pointlessly) trying to establish control over the group!

This got me thinking. Why do children have such a strong need to be loud? Is this their way to cope with the clamor around them? So much so that even when in quieter spaces they are unable to recognize it and moderate their volume. Most seem to use the same volume in a group of 10 as they do in a group of 60 back in school. Overcrowded cities, packed malls, crammed classrooms, angry traffic on the roads - quite a deafening world to be raised in!

Or is it that children constantly need to speak loudly to get the attention they need from us adults around? Having to speak over the evening news, the phone calls, the orders, the reprimanding...that sure needs high volume!

Another gnawing doubt, is this their desperate attempt to get the appreciation they deserve for who they are? With over-reliance on verbal intelligence in most urban learning settings, articulation gets kids instant recognition, indulgent smiles and pats on the back. So the only way for the child to feel appreciated is probably to talk talk talk and talk LOUD!

And in this entire pandemonium, there would be a child who is unable to speak up or maybe chooses not to join the hubbub...this child, like everyone else, has the need to be acknowledged, to be appreciated, to be valued would be like the others. How does that silent (yet gifted) child cope with this reality?

So as i sit in the class, overwhelmed by the decibel levels, i struggle to create a space where observing in silence, and allowing reflection to nurture one's learning and growth is possible. Where i listen first before i speak out. And allow the child in me and those outside feel valued and appreciated without having to scream out loud.

To each her own!

A few days back, drastic temperature variations in Bangalore and sure enough little Nia fell sick. She had a terrible cough and found it difficult to eat. My latest stand in life - say no to anitbiotics - led to me treating her with some home remedies (details of which are saved for another blog). So while she was getting better (will never admit otherwise), it was a slow process.

So three days of being sick, nia was up almost all night due to coughing. With all the sleep deprivation, she woke up quite disoriented. As usual she called out to me but sounded different. When i went to her room, she was sitting up, wide-eyed and looking a little surprised, a little confused. Here's what she had to say:

nia: mamma the room is shaking

me: not it is not (and i hold her tight hoping it'd help - but it obviously didn't)

nia: it is mamma, IT IS! and what is that dum dum sound

me: sweetie there is no sound

nia continued to sit there still trying to figure out and me - i am all set to pick up the phone and call the doc. Just to check i ask her: has the shaking stopped kunju?

nia: no mamma, but why are we taking the whole house on the train? are we going to ammamma?

me: nia there is no train. it is our house baaboo.

and i just sit there - holding her, looking at her - and she still glances around all baffled, trying to figure it out.....

...when suddenly, all confusion from her face clears and with her ah-i-cracked-this-one look , she turns to me and says: now i know what it is mamma,its my heart drums!

beat on crazy drums!

My Masks & Me

i was in a learning space this week with a group of friends that left me with questions on identity. Facets of my identity have been created over the years, based on my roles and relationships. Each space that i am in – the core of my identity shines through but there is a mask i take on - depending on how i perceive that space for myself. both in terms of what i need to give in and what i get for myself. And over a period of time, i have two or three masks that become an integral part of my identity. Masks through which i express myself or relate to the other in that space. Masks through which i set and fulfill expectations.

I would like to believe that there is some space, some relationship in my life where i am authentically ‘just me’ - mask-less. But that is far from the truth. i always have a mask on, no matter what space i am in. The quality of masks differ, at times an impenetrable iron plate, giving no clues about the colour of my skin or the look in my eyes and at times, a thin, almost transparent, veil of chiffon, offering a connection seeped in authenticity.

But then the question for me that stays unanswered is - what comes first - the relationship / space or the mask? As far as i can remember, i have held on to some mask or the other - and they have become my primary means of connecting with someone or living upto a role. So WHAT is this big fear of staying mask-less even as a intimacy grows; the fear of being completely open and therefore maybe vulnerable to the other? Sure, each mask helps in satisfying some need of mine in that space, but what about me do i perceive as so unacceptable if there is no mask to cover it?

As i got thinking about the different masks i don, i also got in touch with how it is most difficult for me to let go of the masks that i have taken on in my childhood. Much before my own independent identity was formed. Though there has been a lot of learning and growing and challenging of the self since i was a little girl, I simply cannot drop the mask from those early years. Almost as if peeling off that mask would mean having to scrape of my skin itself, leaving me covered with raw, wounded flesh. Or like a friend asked: do i hold on to the mask to cover the wounds that are already there, afraid of the vulnerability or even rejection that i would then have to deal with?

I don't even know if i want to take the masks off; whether i really can is a different matter altogether. But now the big question for me to work on - can i see me in the mirror without any masks on and be accepting of what i see?