Jewellery 'n' Me

Coming from a gem-bearing country, India, I naturally love to adorn myself with jewellery. From earrings to necklaces to pieces for adorning my hair and feet, in rubies, emeralds and diamonds with foundation in gold, I am enticed by all.
Whether it is the enamelled Minakari jewellery or classical and traditional Temple jewellery from South, Indian jewellery has evolved with time. Though it's natural beauty and craftsmanship remains the same.
My personal favourite is the antique jewellery. Not the one that is oxidized, but the one that is passed on lovingly through generations. Ah! Hats off to the workmanship and designs of the golden era. Shining through the test of times, antique jewellery remains the most coveted of all jewelleries.

Try your luck
1. What are the four C's whilst talking about diamonds?
2. What is the purity of gold used in temple jewellery?
3. What is KDM?
4. Which gold mine has been India's single largest source of gold?
5. Which country was the only source of emeralds in olden days?
6. What is also known as the `gem of autumn'?
7. Which country is the earliest known source of diamonds?

Answers: 1. Colour, clarity, cut and carat 2. 22 carat 3. Cadmium 4. Kolar gold fields 5. Egypt 6. Sapphire 7. India

Live on Surprise

Life cannot, and will not live on expectations. Yet, we expect - from our relationships, job, and importantly our own selves. When we cannot come up to our own measure of expectations, we are unhappy. Often, we expect others to treat us the same way we want them to respond. We tend to put an interpersonal relationship on a pedestral expecting the 'world' from them. Of course, nine out of ten it cannot deliver. We feel betrayed and resentful. Where is it written that others should act the way we want?
Having realistic expectations from others involves the realising that no one is perfect.
It is important to value and accept our friends and family the way they are, rather than trying to change them. It is in our interest to channelise our energy to something useful rather than trying to change them into what they are not. We must take responsibility of our life than depending emotionally on others, making changes that are in our best interest.

Birth of a mom

July 27th 2007

One week before my rebirth, I get restless. Now I am desperately waiting for my baby to arrive in this world. Moving from one room (with husband) to another room (with mom) like a ghost I toss and turn on my bed. The pain is getting unbearable. The continuous phone calls of friends and family who are eagerly waiting for 'the news' pains me more. I am getting heavier, could give an elephant a complex as well.

On 26th july, I wash all the washrooms, and house. Sparkling clean, just as they show in the ads. After dinner, mom and sonu decide to retire for the night. I continue with my ghostly antics.

Suddenly I am hungry. I tip toe to the kitchen. Look here, and there, and gobble peanuts. Strangely, I feel heavy. I wobble up now, no longer afraid of waking anyone. I try to sleep, honestly I do try. But the pain becomes unbearable. It's impossible to sleep on my right side, but now sleeping on left side appears impossible too. I get up, and walk towards mom's room. Phew! Doesnt an elephant get tired ever??!!! Well, I do!

I cant sleep with mom too. It's 3 am. Trotting back to my room, my scuffles wake up Sonu. Trying to soothe me to sleep, he surely does his best. But this isnt my day. I cry, cry, cry for no reason at all.

Mom hears my Boo-hoo and comes to the room. She decides its time to go to the hospital. Unanimously, we agree, and get going with changing clothes, packing bags, etc.

I visit the bathroom to relieve myself. When I get up, I see blood. My screams bring sonu and mom rushing to check on me.

My water bag has burst declares mom. NOW, it's really really time to rush to the hospital.

We are now residing in Mississauga, but my hospital (Scarborough Grace) is in another city, Scarborough. It's a good one hour drive from home. (It's a long story why we live in one corner, and I am delivering in another corner of the city, will be covered in my next blog).

Sonu zooms to the hospital. Thanks to our previous visits, we know where exactly to park and where to go. Sitting on a wheelchair is no fun. I feel funny being driven by someone else! Talk about giving control of my life to someone else!!!

We are quickly ushered in by a nurse. On the hospital bed, I go through a battery of 'test' that qualifies me to be in labour. Sonu completes the registration hurriedly.

Here's my true test. I hate needles. I am petriefied! I know that "But you are a Doctor's daughter" statement. My nerves are really thin, and difficult to find. So I need a baby needle or a butterfly needle as they call it. However, the nurses dont think so!! They want to first try their expertise on me, and then when they are not successful they call an Anaesthetist to do so! Result: Both my hands are blue with numerous pokes.

it's noon finally when they give me glucose, and then the best thing that mad eve made - epidural. They inject right into your spinal cord while you remain still for few minutes. Then, its bliss. You are unaware of the pain and contractions. They do monitor your contractions though with their advanced monitors.

I sleep for 2-3 hours, unaware of time passing by. Come 8 pm, and a nurse walks in. She is all ready to butcher me. Wearing her gloves, she checks for how much I have dilated. She declares, it's upto you now! Do you want to whine and be here till tomorrow morning or push hard and deliver in the next 15 mins!!!

Now, I am not used to somoene telling me that. Yet, I meekly listen to her instructions and PUSH!! I felt as if I amheavily constipated. And, I push, push and push. Yes, we can see him. And, I push, push and push. I see his head, Oh he has got so much of hair. Sonu says with delight. (I am only interested in pushing). The nurse quickly pulls my baby out, and hands him over to sonu. The proud papa cuts the unbilical chord. Wiping him off, and amidst oohs and aahs, a mother is born.

Baby talks

Hey my darling baby. I haven't seen you, but I feel you inside my swollen tummy. I haven't heard you, but I sense your soft breathing.
You are growing within me; going through all my emotions since the past 7.5 months.
You are getting your nutrition from what I eat.
At times, I wonder if I am giving you the right food, in the right quantity, at the right time.
I hope I am doing everything right.
I can’t wait to see you in flesh and blood, to hear your ba-ba-ba-ba. Oh, what fun it will be to wake up in the dawn to see your smiling face, listening to your cries of hunger or discomfort, feeding you, bathing you. I am looking forward to playing with you with all those gorgeous toys offered in the market.
At times I feel so inadequate and unsure about whether I will be able to take care of you. How will I know that you are not feeling well? How will I know that all you need is a kiss and squeeze from me? How will I know that you are hungry? How will I know that you do not like the new baby soap that I got for you?
Somewhere from within me comes the answer, "You will know with time. You will be a wonderful mother." I break into a wide grin thinking, "Yes, I can do it." Of course, I am not born with all the knowledge in the world. I am going to fall, and learn with my mistakes. Celebrating my mistakes will make me a strong person.
The big lesson that you have taught me is to appreciate every moment in life, worrying about the endless things in life is so stupid.
As you begin to grow, you will soon realize that we live in an image bound society. “So what do you do?” is the most famous question asked as soon as you meet anyone.
What will your mom say? “I am a stay-at-home-mom” or “I work in so-and-so company as so-and-so.”
In today’s times, it’s a no-win situation. Either way, I have to defend my choices. If I choose to be a career mom, I will be seen as a career obsessed parent who has neglected her only child for money, and if I opt to be a stay-at-home mom, I will be looked down upon by others as someone who is incapable of taking care of both, home and work.
So is it possible to have a satisfying career and personal life? The answer is a resounding yes. I may need to revisit my expectations from my self. Is it essential to have a picture perfect home? Is it crucial to bake a cake from the scratch?
I refuse to join in this mummy war, and choose to be responsible for my choices. A choice that I am going to make based on my family wellness, needs and desires. Whatever is my choice, my love and attention is what you will get in plentiful. A loving home filled with joy, laughter and warmth is what you will get.

1408, 80 forest manor

If 1408, 80 Forest Manor could speak, what would it say?
Every house has a story to tell.
Here is ours:

It is Friday evening, October 14, 2005. I enter 1408 with a bagful full of desires, joy and anticipation. The silent lobby greets me with a spick and span look reminding me of a decent hotel in India.
As the elevator takes Sonu and me to the 14 floor, my dreams grow in seconds. I enter our first home with my right foot forward holding Sonu’s hand. Tearing away from his smiling face, I cast a glance at our home.
I gawk at the empty home. The carefully arranged carton boxes in the living plus dining room gawk back.
In its regal magnificence stand a light grey plastic oval table and four chairs used by Sonu and his bachelor friends, formerly meant to place in patio, but chosen to be our dining table. In one corner of the living room, stand two racks full of my priceless books collection. In another corner is a computer table with printer.
The earlier tenants of our apartment generously left shower curtains and white curtains for the living room and bedroom.
The bedroom has a mattress, and a wooden dressing table (with car stickers on it) and a full mirror. An iron box and table stand at the opposite end. Next to it is an enormous wooden filing cabinet with several more, now familiar cartons lined up for me.
Ah, the kitchen that I know nothing about. A Microwave, some cutlery and pots are seen.
The apartment overlooks the entrance of the building that is nestled amongst Fairview mall, library, IGA grocery store and a park.
Slowly, we began building our loving nest. The top shelf in the kitchen turns into a temple. Akin to the Tirupati Balaji mandir, I mount the step stool to worship god.
The dining table is covered with a lace curtain, folding its jagged edges from sides. Ooh la-la! It turns into a table cloth.
The cartons are opened, and things are put in its place; medicines, jackets, clothes and shoes.
A wooden shoe rack from Ikea, dryer, computer table, TV, cutlery, blender, processor, pots and pans from various stores soon find its place in our home. Each item is seen with four critical eyes, checked for affordability, appearance and adoringly placed in our nest.
We choose our bed frame from Ikea; a light wooden frame that stole our hearts instantly. Little did we know what was coming ahead.
We write down the code numbers for all the pieces of the frame, and went about picking them and putting it in the car.
Excitedly, we rush home to put the frame and its pieces together. Suddenly, we feel that this wood feels different. A transparent shiny feel to it strikes us that this is particle wood, and not real wood.
We decide to return it. It was a pain to lift the heavy stuff and put it back in the car. But we had to do it! This time we go for a wrought iron frame. We heave a sigh of relief when everything is done.
Frequent mall trips leave us with a feeling of buying more. We look at the lovingly adorned pieces and understand that we cannot afford nor do we have the space for it. We return with the thought that one day when we buy our home, we will adorn it with the world’s best possessions. “One day” appears so distant now.
I love going to the mall and the library. It has become my second home. I can spend the entire day browsing through stores and books. I often sit in the food court or coffee shop not doing anything nor thinking anything. Friends are puzzled when I don’t complain about the loneliness, the weather, etc. I am happy with my new life. The hush is welcoming; allowing me to be in tune with myself.
Joining George Brown college to complete my certification in Technical Communications has added another dimension to my new life. Meeting new people and starting my life from the scratch is fun.
Our first furniture arrives in last week of October – a sturdy wooden futon with a magazine stand on its sides. Both the arm rest opens to place remotes for CD, TV and VHS.
This soon becomes our preferred place to sit in the evenings. After Sonu comes back from work, we blissfully sit on our futon for hours discussing diverse topics. My much loved is when he gets freshly baked butter croissants from the nearby IGA grocery store that we heat and enjoy with tea followed by cooking together.
Sonu began teaching me basic cooking; elucidating the role of Indian spices. In spite of my lack of culinary knowledge, I took pleasure in cooking experimental dishes.
Friday nights is exclusively ours; pasta or pizza night with wine and movie followed by sleeping on the futon-converted-bed.
Our weekends goes in meeting friends who excitedly call us for lunch /dinner and lavish us with gifts.
It is mid January now, time for us to call our friends home for dinner.
The search for completing the home décor begins with earnest. On Boxing Day sale (just before Christmas), we choose a rust brown love seat and a 3 seat sofa from Brick; next comes a wooden centre table and two side tables. Now our living room looks complete.
A number of kitchen items are bought; chip and dip, wine glasses, beer glasses, and other kitchen accessories.
On the last weekend of January, I give a surprise birthday party for Sonu. His friends take him out of the house to buy ice, and when they enter again, he is stunned to see the decorated house, cake and everyone whistling and clapping.
Now every weekend is spent in going for parties or inviting everyone home. The whole day goes in cooking and tidying the house on the day of the party. Dance, eats and leg-pulling till wee hours in the morning make the parties, fun filled evenings.
Six months fly in decorating, laughing and celebrating joyous moments of life. A blurred Diwali, exciting Valentine's day, and a fun new year at Halliburton; brawls to hugs, kisses and love; time has come to move on to a 2-bedroom apartment.

My bundle of joy

It is January the 24th (2007) today. A bright and lovely day outside. The sun has also come out to rejoice with us on our special day. Sonu and I are going to be parents of a beautiful child. He (I know 'it' is a 'he') is 12-14 weeks old only. My sweet and small baby.

At 8:30 a.m. I walk in the clinic for my first ultrasound with fear and anxiety of the unknown. I was told to have a full bladder. I must drink lots of water one hour prior to the procedure. This will help to move the intestines out of the way and aid in distinguishing various fetal parts. As the technologist takes my health card and asks me to wait, I can only think of going to the washroom to relieve myself. It is too much of a pain to sit still!Few minutes more of waiting, and I am ushered in by a sweet bespectacled lady. I am asked to remove my clothes and instead wear a blue gown, and then join her in room no. 3.

As I enter in after wearing the blue gown, I lie down on my back. She proceeds with the transabdominal ultrasound process of putting a lubricating gel on my growing tummy, and placing a probe over the gel and moving all around on the abdomen. Sound waves pass through my abdomen to the fetus and bounce back to create the fetal image on an electronic monitor.I look at her with growing anxiety, fear knotting my stomach.

Am I pregnant? Is something wrong with the baby? How old is the baby? When am I due? Can I see him? All kinds of questions creep in my mind like snakes in the plane. I finally blurt out, "Am I pregnant"? She gives me an amused look, and asks if I did my pregnancy test. I hesitantly told her I did but I was still confused.

She further probes me if this was my first pregnancy, and if I was new to Canada. I wonder what it has got to do with my pregnancy. Finally she laughs and answered my question: Yes, you are pregnant. I probe her further: how old is the baby? She hesitantly answers, approximately 14 weeks. Wow! I cant believe it. I have to see the baby myself.

After doing few more measurements, she calls in Sonu. Moving the monitor towards us, we watch with anticipation and joy. I see my baby on the screen, yes, with my own eyes! The tiny hands that are going to hold my hands, his newly formed face, eyes, body, limbs, abdomen, shoulder, spinal chord, and his beautiful throbbing heart. Yes, I hear his heart beat too. It is like the sound of a water stream rushing in. I feel tears in my eyes. Is it out of happiness? Disbelief? I have no idea. In a blur, I enter the washroom, change my clothes, and come out with my baby's picture in hand.

Sonu and I come out of the lab smiling. It is true! We are the proud parents of a woderful son. I am determined to give the best to my baby.