This my 2.5 year old tattoo.

Like any well-bred, cultured, family-fearing, marwadi woman, I didn’t publicize it too much. So, just imagine how I cringed when bai (my naani, maternal grandma) said, “meetu, what happened to your foot?” Within a fraction of a second, she realized what it was . And her instantaneous reaction was, “I want one too” So that cringe that you had imagined, you can replace that with awe. “A small one, a dot, on my forehead, where I used to put bindi” BUT STILL!

My bai, I always knew, is too cool for her age and time. She’s an entrepreneur at age 74, no less. Her first question to me, whenever we meet is, “how’s your work?” Not “How are you?” Not “How’s jamaai-babu (son-in-law dear)?” Not “How are the kids?” If you are not a marwadi or haven’t known one, you cannot imagine how much it means to be asked about your work before the rest of what is supposed to compose your life. But that is another subject, another time.

My bai, I love her to the core, she is easily one of my favoritest people. My bai, maybe the only person, who brings a tear every time I think of her, just because of the awesome person she is. My bai is not easily impressed, she knows no other way than to call a spade a spade. My bai who I’d hate to disappoint.

My bai wanted a tattoo!!!! and one more !

So, yesterday, finally, two years after she announced it, I took her and my mom (who also wanted a similar permanent dot) to a tattoo artist. Why two years? Amidst general lethargy, I think I wanted to be sure she wanted it. It’s for-life and on-your-face (all pun intended) after all.

And what a fun two hours they were…

The tattoo artist (Rahul) was late by about half an hour, so I took bai, mom and maasi (maternal aunt) to a snazzy coffee shop. Wobbling along with the support of her walking stick, she said, “this place smells bad”. I think it was the smell of some non-vegetarian dishes. But my mom tried, “it’s coffee”. tee-hee-hee. Bai didn’t look convinced. tee-hee-hee-not! For the sake of reference, she doesn’t eat onion and garlic because they smell awful.

I was duly scolded, “what kind of a windfall permits you to spend Rs. 400 on coffee?” But how could I tell her that the way she smacked her lips in appreciation, after every sip of her cold coffee, made every naya paisa worth it?

Later, at the tattoo parlor, the guys took ages to set the whole thing up. And bai was getting impatient. “What are these boys upto? Why so many machines? Why is this guy wearing such a big ear ring? What are these boys upto again?” Just when I was going to remark, that’s how things are in Pune, slow and slower. I remembered just in time that bai is from a teeny-tiny village in Karnataka. “That tattoo street-hawker in the village, I think she died, she doesn’t do her rounds any more. She’d have finished 4 tattoos by now.” HA HA. True that, I’m sure.

Meanwhile, Rahul couldn’t get over the fact that this old woman wanted this “dot” as a tattoo. “What aaji (granny)? Tired of wearing a bindi?” And pat came bai’s reply, “Why are you wearing that obnoxious earing?”

An hour and a few laughs later we came out with two dots and memories, permanent.

(oh yeah! and mom got her tattoo too. )

Girls (and actually it won’t hurt boys to read this either), try this -

• For today, DO NOT talk/think more than once about (only, if you complain about them/think of them with negativity. If positive, then think of them all you want) -
  • The all-important bai (Maid servants)
  • Kitchen and cleaning up
  • Husband/Boyfriend(s)
  • In-laws
  • Kids (homework, disobedience, ungratefulness, and the like)

Anyone who causes the lovely lady that you are, pain – is SO not worth it.

Once you have done this today. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Every day.

• We love the way men look at us. We love it better when they appreciate it in words. But, you know what? Nothing like a compliment from a woman. It always makes my day! (Hint-hint. Nudge-nudge)

• Hate the pain you suffer?…say while threading, try this -
  • Relax ALL your muscles
  • Think of something else. Thinking about relaxing your muscles might be a good start, but – good, bad, anything…take your mind elsewhere.

From threading to labor pain, it works. I promise.

Hurt to the heart might also feel less painful with this technique! WARNING! Don’t try this on a fresh wound. Start from the 5th day, no pun intended.

• First 4 days, find someone to talk to. You are not meant to let yourself go through trauma alone. If you were, you would be a MAN!

• Yeah, yeah, yeah…men are dogs and we can write that in ‘caps lock’ too. But, each of us, each one of us is a lovely, charming, bitch.

Oh come on, you know that. We aren’t any easier to deal with. No one nags better than us. And get this, each one of us hates nagging and the nagger! This is only one example that classifies us as a bitch. We expect, we obsess. We assume, we extrapolate. We act and we over-react. Sure men do this. But that doesn’t make it right.

To a better me. To a better you.  To a better woman for that man to woo.

(and now let me get to doing at least half the things written above ) Oh yeah…and a very happy woman’s day to you too!

Best of my bonding with abu-rabad happens when we are watching TV together and while doing homework. Let’s forget the existence of homework for the time being. Done? Good.

So, abu and i are watching either cricket or a music reality show he likes, Music Ka Maha Muqqabla, and a sanitary napkin ad comes and goes. And of course -

abu – what’s that ad for?

me (super-composed and surprisingly ready) – all women need to wear a diaper-like thing once a month. this is an ad for that.

abu – oh

Next ad. Since I couldn’t find the video on the net, i’m going to try my best to describe it. No people, it wasn’t a condom ad.

Blank, black screen.

A semi-thick white straight line runs down vertically.

The line takes the shape of a belly towards the bottom, Now the line looks like the outline of a pregnant woman’s belly.

The word “Miss” appears on the left of the line.

The word “Manisha” appears on the right side of the line.

The word “Manisha” is now deleted backwards, letter by letter.

The belly goes flat.

The word “Miss” now is changed to “Missing”.

It’s a public service message for the ‘Save the girl child’ program.

abu – mamma, what that for now?

me (taking a deep breath) – There are many people who want the baby to be a boy when it’s in the mamma’s stomach. So, when they find out it’s a girl, they do something to stop the girl baby from growing and don’t let her be born at all.

abu – oh… (not a man of many words, my boy), then?

me – This is not a good thing, right?

abu – right.

me – so this ad is saying don’t kill the baby Manisha when it’s in the mamma’s tummy. Don’t let her become missing.

abu – oh

i’m wondering whether he understood the concept, and -

abu – why do people like to have only boys?

me – …

don’t really know baby, because i don’t think that way, but maybe because a girl get’s married and has to change her surname. See A mama’s (my brother, abu’s maternal uncle) has the same last name as nana (my dad, abu’s maternal grandfather) but i don’t. And I live far away and am not expected to take care of him, where as A mama is expected to…

I don’t know baby, i really don’t

* * *

Use of a sanitary napkin is something that helps us deal with something nature gave us.

Who do I blame for making the ‘Save the girl child’ message a product?

Why did we create such a situation for ourselves that I have to explain this to my 8-year old child?

* * *

ps. A story from last month.

we get a call, “congratulations you are uncle and aunt to a handsome baby boy!”

we – “thank you, but what? who? when?”

them – “so and so delivered a baby yesterday”

i called the new mommy, “hey, congrats!” Among other pleasantries exchanged asked how here two older daughters were doing. Then -

me – we met just 4 months ago, how come you didn’t mention you were pregnant…Goodness! you didn’t even look pregnant…

she – you know how it is. we don’t know what our decision is going to be, so might as well let you know after everything goes fine.

The intention of this post is not to get anyone in trouble, but this is a first hand story. And i’m so not proud of even knowing this.

One of the ongoing blogathon topics is – “What are the challenges that society faces in accepting the concept of alternate sexuality? How can we address them?”

Religion, social norms, the basic need of a species to reproduce – none of these are in favor of alternate sexuality. Calling it “alternate” is alienating it in the first place, isn’t it?

A close friend, B’s sexual orientation has not at all been accepted. In every trip home he is asked to at least “try” to like a girl. This pressure brings with it a sense of alienation – from his own family. Why? Because he refuses to marry. Because he doesn’t want to make another human being miserable. He desperately wants a family, wants to have kids he can call his own. But, B refuses to fool a person into marriage.

It has to be innate conditioning that doesn’t allow his parents to accept that this is not a disease that needs curing. It has to be deep-seated cultural training over generations that B won’t allow himself a partner even though he stays in the west, where homosexuality is better-accepted.

Homosexuality is hardly a new concept. It must have always existed. Then why are we still finding it so difficult to accept? The one main reason religion, social norm are against it, has to be because it hinders the natural process of propagating the human race. The lack of awareness despite the long-standing existence seems to be a purposeful strategy of religion and social norms.

But better late than never. We are a well-informed generation. And if some of us are not, access to information is a few clicks away. Meanwhile, let’s do our bit to accept homosexuals as normal people (because they are, it’s a shame we are having to say it!) -

Let’s start by not pointing fingers at a man who has an effeminate behavior? Of course, not all homosexual men have effeminate behavior and certainly all men with effeminate behavior are not gay. And even if they are, so what?!

Let’s start by not giving our moviemakers the satisfaction of our snickers at their crude jokes on gays. WTF does, “main waisa nahi hoon” (I am not like that) mean?

Let’s start by accepting friends, relatives and soon enough … our children who might have sexual preferences different from ours.

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