Wo’Me’n and Machines!

Machines and I have had a love-hate relationship. I love how they run my life making it so much easier for me. I hate feeling helpless when they let me down. My friend and I once tried to repair a wet grinder, the motivation being home-made-dosas-on-a-budget. We ended up with a couple of bruises and scratches plus a dented grinder. Not to mention the urad dal missiles that fired around while testing it. I keep writing a note to self “Don’t even try things you are not good at” …but again, maybe I should get it tattooed in my hand or something, so that I remember.

Is this something fundamental in women…or is it just me :)…No offense at all, if you are one of those girls that figured these things out, I downright admire you, want to be you…it’s just probably going to take me more than just effort to get there. I initially got admitted into Mechanical Engineering…And am thanking the heavens that I switched into Electronics eventually. Would I have failed as a mechanical engineer, or would I have battled and survived it is one of those questions that will never get answered. I was never the girly-girl sorts who can’t stand a little grease on their hands. I think most girls with a brother don’t end up being that. I wasn’t the tomboy types either. I can hold a spanner or a hammer and even do a decent job with some assembly stuff…But there it ends…When it comes to actual machines, vehicles I have a brain-freeze. My problem hasn’t been so much with my outlook to doing these things as much as it’s about my ability to do it. Hence it’s my perception that there is some built in gender superiority when it comes to having the “iron-thumb” as I call it.

My dad is an engineer and he is one of the most hands on person that I know. Though a mechanical engineer by profession, he would try to fix every electrical and even electronic issue we had at home. I grew up helping him fix fans, fix the bore well, even try fixing the TV and spent hours listening to him talk about engines. Lots of times, it would whoosh over my head, but I would just listen. When he served at the IAF, he made sure that the fighter jets and helicopters were cleared for flying. He looks at the stuff that I do, and he thinks it’s cool..I think what he did was far cooler, interesting and challenging.

My brother got those genes…I missed them. My brother and I opened up the tape recorder as kids. After putting it back together, he slipped the seemingly “extra screws and random stuff” into his pocket. I would eye that tape recorder suspiciously after that wondering when it would break. He would always be so confident that it will still work while I was amazed it was still working. It’s all perspective I think.

My son has got his grand-dad’s genes for sure. I was busy fixing the shelves at home and he sprinted and grabbed the pencil lying on the floor and stuffed it into every hole in the wooden plank and started turning it around. He seemed to enjoy it so much! Grand-dad will be so proud!

As for me, I think that part of my brain didn’t develop much. I worked in a university fab with these huge furnaces and stations and would feel so insecure when something broke down. My Russian friend and lab mate used to say “Priya, just learn how to pull apart a car and put it together, you will learn anything”…I was totally awed and intimidated..Again this was not a guy who said that to sound cool. I have actually seen him work with his old car and with the furnaces that broke down in the lab. I would most intently slurp into my coke in the hope of catching a few extra minutes to think anything even remotely intelligent to say when he asked me questions as we(he) fixed the things.

So why suddenly am I thinking about this…. I was talking to my neighbor and he is thinking of buying a plane. OK, not even just that. “You can get a kit for a single seater private plane for 20 grand and you can build it”...he tells me. My mouth still wide open…, “Where will you park it” I ask like a meek kid. “At the Hangar of course”, he quips and I feel silly for even asking. I just couldn’t resist having the mental image of my accord parked next to a plane :) !! And he is taking pilot training now. And he is that absolutely down to earth and simple software engineer who is pursuing his passion. I instantly admired him for that. Fixing a plane from a kit….really!!!! ..And having the guts to sit inside it and fly it requires both competence and confidence.

After that conversation, I went home inspired to fix Abhi’s orange-berry toy. He loved it till it worked and now sits by it and presses the buttons hoping to hear something. I feel sad for him. If my neighbor can build a plane, I can repair Abhi’s toy. I will start with small baby steps and one day will get better :) ! So I get to it. Brought my tool kit and readied myself for the project…

B always tells me I pull a bazooka at a mosquito..He says that for different reasons. But now it sounded so appropriate. Huge tools, little toy, focused mom, anxious son, amused grand-dad.

After 2 hours of meddling around..with constant running commentary from appa of-course..Abhi came and patted the toy gently and sympathetically, pressed its buttons and looked at me…the verdict was out…

I try not to fall bang in the middle of such clichés but honestly for me, it’s like having two left feet and trying to dance. Pulled out my scribble pad from the handbag and started writing “To buy: Onions, cilantro, milk, new blackberry toy for Abhi!!”

Every artichoke has a tender heart

I have never had an artichoke till now..At the grocers, I have looked at it and wondered what to even make of it and put it back right where it belonged…the shelves. I don’t know of any Indian cooking that uses it..I am no expert..but having seen both my mom and my mom-in-law giving it a suspicious stare, I am sure they weren’t acquainted either..

So a friend of mine comes in with a suggestion. ”Let’s make an artichoke custard"..Custard ??!!? My eyes pop out.. :S !!.I have taken risks in life..But this is one I really wouldn’t want to...I just blurted out a few minutes earlier to her, that I am open to exploring new cuisines to get Abhi interested in food and wished so much now that I could have taped my mouth shut. She leaves the bag of artichokes at my counter and steps out with my son.

I eye this curious vegetable (or fruit ??!!? I thought we made custard with fruits!). It looked so prickly and harsh... Custard really!! With you?? I make nice warm paneer paratas for Abhi and he doesn’t seem to get interested in food...And we are going try to make artichoke custard to get him excited. It just seems soooo wrong!

The afternoon tryst with the artichoke was something to remember. So it was me, my friend and our little sous-chef trying to make artichoke custard. Abhi was interested in playing with this curious vegetable. He liked to hold it with the stem and bang it on the fridge door. Was he thinking "If I could just smash you, then these two women would spare me from eating u" ..My dad comes by the kitchen and I hear him murmur to himself "Custard? Custard?" in disbelief as he steps out ...A few min later, he comes back...”U are making this only for kuzhandhai right? “looking very concerned...And then he tells me, "I feel like taking a long walk" and walks out of the door. Lucky You!! Appa…

I looked at this abandoned vegetable (I am still trying to wrap my head around how to drop u in custard)...but nevertheless I am more sympathetic now. A friend calls in and while in conversation reminds me of my last post on how I should give the imperfect thing a chance, laughs out loud and hangs up....What timing...Me and my big mouth I think!! This is why I shouldn’t be writing philosophy!! This is y I shouldn’t be writing at all...

Then it gets even better, she pulls out a spinach bunch...And I am pretending to make something good with it hoping to distract her from her “main dish”. She goes “Nooo, this is for the custard”…Huuunhh!!??!! First it was artichoke and then its spinach and we are making custard ?! ? By now I am almost at her feet begging “I will make amends for any mistake of mine…Why ….why are we doing this..and why abhi…poor little thing, what did he do, cant u see his innocent little face ” …Its almost like she read my mind. “Priya, don’t worry, it’s made with salt not sugar” and she smiled at me like my main concern was addressed. “Why do we call it custard?”..I innocently ask..; “A custard doesn’t have to be sweet..You have savory custards, it’s like a quiche and we shall bake it” she quipped.

What’s in a name...u may ask..A name is everything. A name is an identity and if your identity just got switched a 180o, then it’s not a good thing. Thou shalt not be a custard to me ….In my mind, a custard has fruits and is not baked…Thou shalt never be custard to me.. Thou shalt be a quiche….And I closed my heart and moved on..We dropped in butter, cheese, eggs, nutmeg, and spinach. Then we were going through the motions of peeling off the leaves in the artichoke and fuddled with the soft and squishy inside when my friend mentions “Every artichoke has a tender heart…Its almost like a person…rough on the exterior, soft inside”. A giggle slipped out of me …the kitchen is such a great place for philosophy…if only we didn’t have to eat all of them.

So what happened at last….Yes, a spinach-artichoke-cheese-quiche came out of the oven..I couldn’t tell where the artichoke was..It was like me searching for the ladys-finger in the tiramisu. It wasn’t bad, but it wouldn’t find its way into my favorite dishes either …Abhi couldn’t care less..he bit into it, squished it with his hand and rubbed it all over the high chair and was ready to play. My dad was so relieved that no one forced him to eat it and passed on an empathetic stare to Abhi. It was a funny evening in hind sight and I learnt something. That custard is not always sweet and an artichoke is like a person – hard on the outside, with a tender heart inside. And I shall not make fun of it ever again…In this post, yes !! but no …never again :)

Give me a chance!

Have you ever felt that you didn’t get that one chance to prove it to someone you were worth it...?

A couple of weeks ago I was at my wits end with getting my son to adjust to his daycare. The inconsolable crying broke me, but I tried being strong. I would walk out trying not to look back, drive an extra loop to calm myself down, tell myself it will all work out and pull into work. But then he fell sick all the time and I was done with long doses of antibiotics one after another. I had to pull him out every time he fell sick. And getting any work done with a crying sick child was impossible. I was in a new job and there is not too much room for slack. I needed a solution….I started a nanny search again, interviewed people ..but nothing really worked out. It’s hard to hire someone to take care of this little person u love so much by just pruning through the paper resumes. Some of the best sounding resumes were just examples of good writing abilities….

Then I found this girl...She didnt have a strong resume, but she had a unique circumstance, and she connected so well with him. She didn’t come with the pre-requisites I had in mind for the ideal person. B & I talked to her and just as much as we liked her at the outset, we had an equal sense of apprehension again because of her unique story and how different she was from what we sought. There appeared to be something genuine and sincere about what she said, but I really couldn’t put a finger on what that was. It was a decision that was left to me. Everyone decided to trust my judgment, while I didn’t. My instinct asked me to go with her, my head wouldn’t agree with the decision. There was fear that it would be the wrong decision for me, for my little love. But as much as I wanted to judge and evaluate her, I also wanted for her to succeed.

If we could decide everything for ourselves with just logic and reason, life would be so much simpler, so much more robotic and more predictable. But its when the heart rules the head, life is spontaneous. Yes, to all the men from Mars ..I am one of those women from Venus and happy being that way. I was born with brains and I do use them...but it just doesnt win every battle. :). After several hours of brooding over the next couple of days, i decided to give her a chance. It was purely a decision based on my instinct.

Now, she is trying hard..harder than usual to keep me happy. More important than anything else, my little baby feels happy with her. She expresses her gratitude in several ways everyday for giving her a chance. And that gets me thinking about the people that have given a chance, an opportunity at several points when I probably wasn’t shining at my best and how I continue to walk that extra mile for them...and of the times when i missed that one chance that I really wanted so much. Whatever be the context, giving someone a chance is a risk you take for yourself or your firm or whatever it is that they have control over. And it may not always work out, but sometimes I think we should also set aside our impulse to seek out that perfect and ideal solution for us and give the seemingly imperfect solution a shot. It might teach us something and that lesson is worth it.

Don’t get me wrong…I am not advocating going with impulsive decisions, but sometimes and just once in awhile, we have to give someone who doesn’t present that perfect picture, a chance...and who knows, we may be pleasantly surprised at how happy we would be with it.

The tiny sapling that finds its way out of a concrete floor is the chance that nature gives it to live...

I may be wrong...don’t take me seriously if you think differently….This is just a random scribble on the wall :)