Namesake?

I remember reading Jhumpa Lahiri's Namesake through one night two years ago, the only other book I stayed up for was " The Bridges of Madison County" in 1995. And as dawn broke over the Eastern horizon, I had made up my mind: I was in a new country, a new set of rules and I was going to do what I have always wanted to do: take my name back.

Stereotypes abound when it comes to women and more so of South Asian descent in my new country. I smile or cringe when ill informed people wax eloquent about ' those people raising their daughters to be meek and docile" Yeah right, tell that to Indira Gandhi, Benazir Bhutto, Khalida Zia, Sheikh Hasina, Maneka Gandhi, Chandrika Kumaratunga, Medha Patkar, Bachendri Pal and Kalpana Chawla......

My father raised me well. While Amma took care of the softer aspects of my personality, he stood up for the values he was instilling in my young mind. At 19 when I readied myself to go to Bangalore alone on a overnight train, he reminded all the worriers that as long as "Rashmee kept her wits about her and did not walk off into the sunset leaving her belongings on the berth, there was no way she was going to be hoodwinked": oh the joy of that!! Life is indeed a self fulfilling prophecy. I was raised to believe that I would make mistakes sometimes but I was not to live every single day worrying about the next one or blaming myself for the previous one. And that has freed me to be who I am and enjoy every moment of it.

So there it is: I am a Karnad and always have been.

So two years ago began my quest of taking back my name. Three sets of forms later, my boss's sister, a provincial judge, said to me when I asked her to sign the forms: "You are taking back what was always yours, you need no one's permission to do that. Yet I waited.. I had to get my highway licence and then change my name once and for all on that piece of id. The next step was my passport. I had always written as KARNAD-JANI for the last 16 years so my literary identity was not changing.

So I got my licence and changed my name and that was that. I had practised my signature and was delighted with it.

But old habits die hard. I had requested a copy of Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth from the library and received a call yesterday to collect the copy. So off I went this cold February afternoon and searched for the book: Jain, Jensen, .... the list went on and still no book.

And then came the sudden realisation: of course I was not there,. I was under KARNAD wasn't I? I looked and there I was: as safe as I had always been. And the smiles of my Elders broke through the winter clouds.

BTW "Unaccustomed Earth" is a great book. Real, wistful, very touching.

You CAN go home!

This is Shantikunj, the first home I ever knew. Today, Feb 14th 2009, my youngest brother moved into his palatial condo in Thane a verdant suburb of Mumbai. And a page of my childhood was turned forever.

I have an overflowing heart right now, spoke to Kshitij, my brother. Asked him the very question he has asked me since I married and moved on to other homes: "Does it feel the same". And he said to me: " Kinda, you know how it is". Days will move forward. He will get used to the greenery outside his window and he will make new memories. And in the midst of that, Shantikunj will beckon, with all the memories we have there. Who says that the old house is empty? All the days that we spent together are there waiting for us to return and reclaim them. After all, marbled floors, however precious, do not replace the cold floors of my mother's kitchen. And we all get it: that is the gift.

Here is a poem I had written long ago.

Memories

The sultry air, the promise of rain,
A certain smell in a passing train,
Summers past and pleasure
Thrills

Raw mangoes from a tall tree,
Well water and ferry rides,
Bicycling in the fields,
Kites on the hillock,

Hatching butterflies and chickens,
Wind in our hair
Long drives, dark nights
And sandy beaches.
Special outings and memories

We move on
Life takes us away
From the days that were such fun
Special moments

The first rains still recall.
I look back all those years ago
We were children together
Do you remember?

Today, I remembered a war

Today, I Remembered A War

This evening watching M*A*S*H with the kids

I was asked by my almost 11 year old son

“What is more difficult: being a soldier or being a doctor in a war
Is it more difficult to die or to watch someone else, helpless?”

And time once again compressed itself Like the Knight Bus

I was back in 1971 Windows papered with brown and black

Dinner at 6, something unknown

And the misplaced thrill of a 5 year old’s heart
for long shadows from candle light

Not knowing the seriousness

Of War, or Death The buzz,

the whine of planes overhead

Like so many bees

Hiding under covers and thinking

Who are these people?

Do they even know I am here
a tiny speck, a real person
and that I love puppies, chocolate and

to walk on the beach with my father?

Today we are sisters, you and I

and sit at the same table

I teach your child

I hold your hand

when you weep for his struggles

Or yearn for her success

And somewhere in the gathering dusk we remember the same war

We smile at our fears as we share memories with our children

And we comfort the girls that we were

On either side of that border

We move on with our lives and

We pray that our children

never ever have to face those fears

as we yearn for the rains of our long-lost homes

We pray that we are safe together

You and I.

These parents, those parents

As an educator and a parent, I often cringe when I hear the term ' these parents' and wait with bated breath for what comes after.

And the comments are mostly judgemental: These parents don't come to meetings. Those parents don't understand this math. These parents walk in when they feel like, these parents, these parents, these parents.

On Jan 29th, I was in the company of many parents. It was ( as per my previous post) the Information Night at our high school. Families milled around, hesitant at first and then taking the plunge, asking questions trying to re-caliberate ( Randy Paush used this word in 'The Last Lecture' and I love it).

As I wandered around, collecting fliers for my class display ( some of my students were at a tournament and they would need the information) I met this gentleman and after the exchange of pleasantries and the usual conversation of the snow and the cold weather, the talk moved to high school in general and changes in particular. He said: " I am quite impressed when I see the math my kids are doing these days: they work with concrete materials, are expected to demonstrate critical thinking and problem solving in groups, have conversations about their math reasoning, think about their thinking ... Wow!"

I had to ask: Were you born and raised in Canada? Did you go to school here?"

"Oh yeah," he assured me, " Yet I did not do math this way. This is just a sign of the change in times and expecations in education."

Phew, this was the time to exhale on behalf of all ' those parents' who 'did not get the math we do here'.. After all, not so long ago, I had been one of them. 7 years ago, entering Canada with a high level of fluency in 6 languages ( English being one of them) I was mildly disappointed that I did not know that the 3Rs" meant "Retell-Relate-Reflect" and not " Reading-'Riting-'Rithmetic" ( never mind the spelling, it is English after all, it cannot be wrong now can it?).

I narrated my story, we chuckled about this and the gentleman went on his way. BTW, did I mention that he heads the math department at a high school?

Will all ' those parents' please stand up!!!