Why should we have to choose

My generation of mothers is not the first one to have a full-time job and raise a family. I can’t speak with any authority of what their work-life balance looked like. This post is only about Indian mothers like me in this day and age, who live in cities, are looking up in their careers, and want to be always there for their children. In short, those who do not want to be forced to make a choice between work and womb.

I have seen our types tackle work and motherhood in about three typical ways:

1. Give up job as soon as they become mothers or even get pregnant.
2. Hold on to a part-time job and become full-time mothers.
3. Neither give up job nor motherhood and come to resemble a full-time circus.

I belong to the third group. My child is now two years and three months old and the worst seems to be over, in terms of sleep-deprived nights at least. And, though I willingly continued working full-time after my maternity leave, I’d be lying if I said I never thought of giving up the job or at least consider a part-time option. It took all the grit I could muster to get to work day-after-day, irrespective of how the night had been and how my own health was. And I didn’t feel that gritty or that inspired every day.

The silver lining was my child herself. She is a remarkably manageable kid and made it as smooth as possible for me, but it only went so far. Yet, I am grateful as she could have easily been more difficult.

I work from home for an American company, which had its pros and cons for me, the new mother. I was technically always around the baby, if she needed me. Initially, within the first year, this worked quite well, but as soon as she started to talk and crawl around, she’d ask for me and this would tug at my heart. Working for an American company also meant that I had to devote evenings for calls with my colleagues. So, in the morning, I would be busy with the baby. I’d start work at noon or so, go on up till dinner time, then take over the baby from the family, and immediately post-dinner start the lullaby routine. As my daughter reached the 1-year milestone, she seemed to keep awake for longer and putting her to sleep in the night could take anywhere from 30 minutes to 1.5 hours! On tougher days and there were quite a few of them, I had to put in an hour or two of work, after she went to sleep.

Yes, I had my family to support me but as anyone who has relied on family will know that it’s not like professional help. That is, you can’t ask them to follow the schedule you want and have to accommodate their need for rest and non-baby time, too. For the working mother, of course, there is no down-time, except for 5-6 hours at night at best.

I can hear all those mothers out there who did get professional help in India and learned that it was hardly professional, after all. And, this is where Indian working mothers are severely handicapped from their Western counterparts. Of course, not all help in the US or UK is great and when they are, they come at very high prices.

But in India, at least as far as my own experience goes, it’d be highly risky to leave your baby under two years under the full-time care of a stranger with no family member around. Unsurprisingly, mothers choose the well-being of their kids and give up the job. Work-from-home options are few and far between and even when they are, they rarely match up to the pay and perks of a cubicle job.

My situation has made me think of why there are so few, quality childcare options in India and what employers are doing about it. It’s not that we don’t have playschools or cribs, but there are not enough good ones, in terms of security, cleanliness, nutritious food, trained teachers, and a teacher-child ratio of not more than 10 children per teacher. At least, not that everyone is aware of. And, if you want childcare at home, you hardly have a choice with the ayah the agency is going to send you. In an earlier generation, the domestic help would double up as daycare provider, but that’s not to be counted on today.

Why don’t we see some start-up energy in this service? I feel there's immense scope for a company that provides professional childcare, full information of their staff and lets you choose and then rate them in a transparent way? Or an app that lets you compare childcare facilities available in your city? I know that a few employers in India provide crib facilities at the workplace and offer flexible work options, but why aren’t there many more? (NASSCOM seems to have a dedicated report on the topic, but it’s behind a firewall.) Why doesn’t it become a norm than stay something fancy that only a few women can avail of?

Many women in all classes of society have to leave their homes and work for a livelihood. They have often no one but their in-laws or parents to care for their children. Those who don’t have this support often disappear from the workforce. This report that I found rightly says this is not a problem with ramifications only for the productivity of India’s workforce, but that of the world’s, as many of the white-collar jobs that Indian women do are actually for global companies. Perhaps we can never dream of anything like the family-friendly policies of Nordic countries, when our country is supposed to have a surplus of workforce, but let’s not forget that by losing women, we lose highly skilled communicators, multi-taskers, problem solvers, and the possibilities of varied viewpoints.

All the education, rigorous training and competing with men comes to naught, if childcare is not provided. Do we have a discussion of these problems in feminist studies? If anyone knows, please enlighten me. Because, this really is the problem of the educated, middle-class, modern Indian woman. 

I am back (hopefully)

My last post on my blog was long, long ago. Blogging was one of the casualties of me graduating into more responsible positions, personally and professionally. To some extent, Facebook is responsible, too. Before motherhood, managerial positions, and social media, I was a creator of content. I would react to news, trends in society that concerned issues close to my heart.

Afterward, I only became a passive watcher on the bylines of social content creation, as I became busy getting my dal-roti and tending to a baby, while juggling late-evening conference calls, and managing a team virtually. I'll blog soon about what I have learned as a full-time employee and mom. I know that women out there in similar situations such as mine are always looking for some affirmation and encouragement - at least, I did.

I am now hoping to make a blogging comeback. The posts may be shorter, but they'll appear with some regularity.

Motherhood that looks and smells good

Bhargavi, when she was about a month old. 

Often, it’s the simple things in life that people don’t understand and miss out on.

Recently, I visited a credit card site in the course of some work and saw an image of a young couple obviously in love. The caption used words to the effect that said that the credit card made it all happen or some such thing. It’s an all-too familiar hook that advertisers use to get up close with the customer, but the problem is that people actually fall for this, and sometimes even without knowing it.

We begin to believe that we need the wherewithal to express love. We begin to believe that everything needs to be templatized in a follow-the-herd spirit. Hence, we ‘equip’ ourselves by buying whatever can be bought in preparation for the roles we must play in life, but when the time comes to actually don that role, we chicken out. Because, reality is much more than money can fathom.

Why I am thinking this way? Just today I heard from a friend how someone she knows was following the motherhood template: she had the posh crib from a pricey shop, a 24-hour ayah in place, and so on, but no time or intention to actually be a mother.

Motherhood is a one-way journey: once a mother, you’ll always be a mother. You can’t go back to the place when you weren’t a mother. You can’t expect that your baby will grow up overnight once your maternity leave ends. Motherhood isn’t always glossy. It’s wet, it stinks, and it’s sleepless. Yet, there can’t be a better feeling in the world than to be a mother. Now that I am a mother I can easily imagine how some mothers must feel when their children become uncaring and turn away from them. That’s truly sad.

What I said about motherhood applies in many respects to other roles in life. After the wooing with diamond rings and what not and the grand wedding, there comes the reality of actually having to live with the person – warts and all – day after day. No holiday from that. How many of us are ready for this?

Really, the most important lessons in life are ones that no one’ll teach you, but you’ll learn nevertheless.
If this post sounds like a lot of meandering, that’s because I am. Sometimes, it just feels nice to speak your mind, rather than collect and compose thoughts. Almost relaxing.

Is sex sexist? And, is something wrong with what women study?

Does heterosexual sex necessarily involve subjugation of women?

Is the feminist movement toothless or even unnecessary today?

If women can’t reach the same professional heights as men, is it because they studied the wrong subjects in school?


These are some of the questions being currently discussed in Germany as a result of a public spat between feminist and author, Alice Schwarzer (left), and the minister for families, pensioners and women, Kristina Schröder.

To me, it seems Schwarzer is looking at how child birth often pushes the woman out of economic production. Because, the value of reproduction, the value of a woman’s time and effort in reproducing a human being is still unaccounted for, taken for granted. Corporations myopically question what they are to gain from the reproductional function of women. But then they are quite adept at conveniently pretending they operate in a social vacuum, when it suits them to do so.

It is only in few countries like Sweden where mothers receive huge support in terms of maternity leave and childcare facilities. Other countries, even developed ones, are still dilly-dallying about what they should be doing for working mothers.

About the second question, it reminds of me something that happened in the first year of living in Kolkata. I was looking out of my office window when I saw some CPM cadres march by, shouting “Inquilab Zindabad!” I asked my boss what they were revolting against, what was their agenda, what was the revolution in the 21st century about? My boss, a CPM loyalist, was very offended and said something about keeping the spirit of revolution alive.

A movement loses fizz when its goals are reached or its members get compromised. Have the feminist movement’s goals been reached? Clearly, no. And, when I say no, it’s not only about how even competent women find it difficult to become the CEO of their company, but the ingrained, implicit, and often explicit violence that women are conditioned to bear and even propagate. So, have we women been compromised? Or, been led to believe that all’s well as long as we match up to men.

I sometimes think in terms of the three generations in my family: my grandmother worked shoulder to shoulder with my grandfather in the fields, cooked for him, and raised a family of nine kids.

My mother had to struggle to get through college, not because she could not afford it, but because it was not she who decided things in her life.

In my life, it seems however, that most important decisions are mine. Yet, when I peer at them, I find quite a few of them to be the result of conditioning so strong that I don’t even realise they are not mine.

Yet, the differences between my grandmother’s life and mine are profound. And, both she and my mother have always dinned it into me how important it is to a woman to have her own source of income.

To me, feminism is not about being equal to a man. It is about being recognized and treated as a human being. It is about being able to decide for myself. It is about being able to reach my potential unhindered by my gender. And, I recognize that a lot of these freedoms hinge on who controls the purse strings. Not that an economically independent woman is not exploited, but she can afford to negotiate terms better.

And, about Schroeder’s statement on women’s under-performance being linked to the subjects they studied, I, like Schwarzer, must say that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The new way to work: my new way to live

(Note to Sihikahi regulars: You're already familiar with most of the stuff of this post. This is my entry to Elance's 'The New Way to Work' contest, so you guys can skip it.)

I chose to work on my own from the comfort and distractions of my home a little less than two years ago.

This new way to work, for me, is an affirmation of faith in me, as a writer and editor who can make it on her own. My husband, Lincoln, propelled me towards this way of working. If not for his conviction in my abilities, I’d still be slogging it out for someone else.

I call it an affirmation of faith in myself because when I took the leap, and I must term it so, I had no definite plan, no potential jobs on the horizon… nothing.

Instead, what I did have for certain was a number of EMIs knocking at my door every month, and the reality of living in a city which didn’t have and doesn’t have too many good opportunities for a writer and editor.

I began bidding on Elance last June. I had almost run out of my connects quota and hope, when I got my first break. I actually ran around the house, called my mother, and was pretty much delirious with joy.

Later, I worked as a content manager for a Texas-based medical tourism company and cloud commuted for nearly a year. I am now active on Elance and in the process of setting up my firm. More about that here.

This post is about the way ahead: the new way. And I love it. But as with things/persons you love in life, there is a bit of a compromise, a bit of putting up with things you don’t like, and a lot of struggle. Some of the tough things about working on my own are:

No chatter at the water cooler: I work alone, so I have no colleagues to catch up with on office gossip. So, it gets boring sometimes, but, heck, there is no office politics to put up with either.

No paychecks: Freelancing , especially in India, is not for the weak-hearted. A few friends have told me they envy the fact that I can choose the day and time to go out and do my thing. I don’t have to look over my shoulder in fear of the boss. I can crank up the volume when they play my song on the radio, and so on. But, it’s not all milk and honey. Nothing is. I am working harder now than ever before. Of course, I am also enjoying my work than ever before. But I ask my friends who envy me, if they will venture out into the world of no paychecks. I have, so I get my privileges.

Discrimination, or the other end of being lowballed: On Elance discussion forums, I have come across many providers cribbing about how Indian providers’ lowballing affects their chances. The cost of living is comparatively low in India, hence our bids are going to be lower than, say, that of our American counterparts. You have to accept that. But there are all kinds of Indian providers, just as there are, I am sure, good, bad, and ugly from the First World. So, while there are Indian providers who will work at $2/per article or whatever, I don’t belong to that category. Yet, I regularly get invites for projects with ridiculous budgets and I regularly turn them down. Just because I am an Indian provider, I find it absurd that people accept me to work for a pittance. Obviously, they are not after quality, so, no thanks, I’d rather do without your business.

Back in India, working from home was not a lucrative position till recently. But I think that’s changing slowly. My Indian clients, though I don’t have too many of them, pay me, more or less, on par with my clients from abroad, and are quite easy to work with. I wouldn’t yet say the market for independent providers of content is mature in India. I think that’ll take some time.

And some of the challenges are:

Organizing yourself: This is the biggest challenge for anyone setting out independently. You are your own boss, your time is yours, and your time is your money. So, unless you plan well, stay organized and focused, the day will be gone before you know and you won’t have much done. Which means, a corresponding decrease in revenue. Ouch. The first couple of months, I used to do a little of this and a little of that. I ended up tired, out of breath. Now, if it’s two hours for a certain project, it’s two hours of focused work on that project and not a minute more. This has helped me stay in control.

Staying positive: That’s the second biggest challenge. Jobs pour in sometimes, and at other times there is a pause. Some clients are absolute dears, others are, well, let’s say they come in all shapes. And you’ve got to stay positive amidst everything. Initially, this was difficult. If a week went past without anything working out, I would start fretting. But with time and my pile-up of experience, I am more patient now and confident that it will work out.

Elance has a huge role to play in shaping up my new way to work, and live. I love its transparency and range of jobs to choose from. Tough as it is to survive on your own, it would be hundred times more difficult without an enabling platform such as Elance.

Till now, I have worked on content writing, editing, page layout, and SEO assignments via Elance. What I am now eager to explore is the fiction and travel domains, be it writing/ghostwriting or editing it.

A world of possibilities has opened up to me, thanks to the new way to work. And I am thankful to my family and Elance for being a part of this in such a positive way.

My Elance profile
Name: Vijayalaxmi Hegde
Mail: vijayalaxmi dot hegde at gmail dot com

Why do we use cliches?

A programmer friend, who is on a sort of a sabbatical, was wondering if he could code as well as he did despite his long break from work. This prompted me to think if one could ever forget writing, too.

I don't think so. I feel writing is a process that helps you evolve and your writing, too, keeps constantly evolving. Writing exercises and involves the brain, hence it is not a task we can relegate to our reflexes.

In fact, communicating through the written word is quite a complex process. Vague, half-formed thoughts from the recesses of our brain have to be dressed-up and presented in a human language. That is not a skill Nature endowed us with.

Building the connect between the thought and the text does come easy if your thought is strong, full-bodied. At other times, writing something down can clear up fuzzy thoughts and give you direction.

It is the complexity of the writing process that makes people reach out to crutches: second-hand or automatic expressions. I've no argument with people who're happy with someone else doing the talking for them, but they will definitely find it difficult to be heard and understood.

People who use clichés or buzzwords like leverage, bandwidth, paradigm shift, legalese and commercialese like whereas, in receipt of, hereof are usually the most vocal against plain language. Their argument for gobbledygook is that everyone else is using them, and they are only fitting in.

This urge to conform is certainly strong, but the other reason why people are initially resistant to writing in plain language is that it’s actually not easy. We are often so accustomed to using borrowed expressions or conforming to a particular way of writing, that we are not familiar with our own voice.

Of course, not everyone who writes wishes to communicate. Lawyers are one such species of people.

But if you are writing to be understood, guard against use of clichés and gobbledygook. People have heard all the clichés there are to be heard, but they are really keen to know what it is that you have to say. Of course, if you've nothing to say, you better not say it.

Blue Pencil India for plain language, crisp writing, and editing that’ll make text sparkle

I have previously written about my work-from-home/freelance writing ventures. Blue Pencil India now seems to me to be the logical step forward. Of course, this took much convincing and all the persuasive powers of my husband, Lincoln, who is now a co-founder of BPI.

You need to believe a lot in yourself and have an unflagging positive spirit to start off on your own. And, to some extent, the lack of professional growth opportunities in Kolkata for a writer/editor did affect my confidence levels.

But thanks to the wonderful clients I have worked with and the diverse projects I have worked on in the last year or so, I now feel ready to work on my own.

At Blue Pencil India, I hope to get interesting and challenging assignments in the domains of writing, editing, and SEO content.

As a writer, there are some projects I do want to work on and I’ll soon have a wish list ready – they’re one of those ‘things to do before you die’. But, generally speaking, I’d like to work for clients who are keen on quality. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t be able to do the article spinning kind of work. Just not made for that.

As an editor, there’s something I am raring to do: edit fiction. Till now, I have edited newspaper articles, tons of legalese and officialese, website copy, user manuals, and the like. But fiction is something I have not done yet and I look forward to it. It should be a welcome break after all the backbreaking editing I have had to do till date.

BPI will also be a space to campaign for plain language in India and continue the work of Jyoti Sanyal, my teacher and mentor. For now, it’s just me and Lincoln, but soon, we should be able to pull in more people and make ourselves heard to people in the administration and in industries like banking and insurance. They, more than anyone else, need to use plain language.

My years with Sir (Sanyal) have made me passionate about the use of clear, concise language in all communication. I will be using Sihikahi and Blue Pencil India to speak about this as much as possible.

Apart from the campaign part of plain English, I am interested in working with individuals or firms to translate their documents or website copy into plain language and help them communicate clearly and effectively.

Writing in plain language is really not rocket science, but it does require that you have a genuine wish to inform your reader.

I request all readers of Sihikahi to help spread the word about Blue Pencil India. What we have invested in BPI are our professional skills, time, a lot of hope, and positive attitude. My hunch is there’ll be a lot of takers for out-of-the-box writing and professional editing – something that’s not too common in the freelance world. Now, let's prove my hunch right, shall we?

A year of striking it out on my own

I have been very busy in the last few months, perhaps the busiest in my life yet. And in the all-consuming daily rush, I never noticed that I completed a year of working on my own this May. Yay!

I took on this new freelance writer-editor avatar of mine after I quit my last conventional job in April ’08. When I quit, I had no friggin idea what to do next, how I would pay the looming EMIs..., heck, I didn’t know from where the food on my plate would turn up.

But quit I did, and never once regretted it. The workplace repulsed me with its mediocrity and cheap, small-time politicking.

When I look back I feel happy about all the anger I have. It keeps me on my toes and from compromising on work ethics.

In my personal and professional life, I have taken risks, calculated or otherwise. And I wouldn’t like to go back and change anything.

I started out as a journalist in Vijay Times, and those were really crazy, fun-filled days. The shifts were endless, and the only respite came from the copy churned out by translators (news reports from Vijay Karnataka – a Kannada daily – would be translated to English). I remember one story that a hapless colleague had to, well, decode. In the copy, it said a train stopped and then did a U-turn. Am not making this up, because this simply is the creation of a mind with far more imagination powers than my humble brain could ever boast.

I took a break from work and completed a distance education course in environmental law. My interest in developmental journalism drove me to do this course. It helped clarify a lot of concepts about environment, conservation, and development.

Then, suddenly, one day I got a call from a recruitment company and asked if I would be interested with a job at AOL. First, I had no idea that AOL had an office other than its call center in Bangalore. They had a very low profile then. Secondly, I didn’t know what a copy editor could do there.

Anyway, I went to the interview, which lasted a whole day, and walked out with a job. That was my first 5-digit salary. I made some lasting friends there and learned a whole lot about the business of search.

But I had to leave as a new life waited in Kolkata, post-marriage.

People considered me lucky to be picked by The Telegraph, but here was where I met my first snobbish, half-wit, bossy boss. I left soon enough, and it was such a relief.

I then joined Clear English India where I worked for nearly two and a half years. Jyoti Sanyal was its founder and the sole reason for me taking up this job. He cautioned me against leaving a big name as The Telegraph and joining a start-up. Thank god, I didn’t listen to him. As his student, I had never thought I would get to work with him. The time at CEI was, in a sense, an extension of my education. But after he died in April last year, I saw the same mediocrity and politicking, I was so wary of in newspapers, creep into CEI. If I stayed, that’d mean a violation his memory and I felt I’d become a part of the mire. So, that was that, and I left.
The first couple of months as a work-from-home writer/editor were nightmarish. But, slowly, magically, things changed and I am grateful for that.

In the last year, I have worked with diverse clients and all of them have been positive experiences. The major part of my work was for a medical tourism company, which involved viral marketing and SEO. It’s a lot of hard work, patience, and persistence, but you do get a teeny-weeny high when you see an article you wrote show up on the first page of Google.
My journalism background does place me at an advantage over most others. I have worked with publishing software like QuarkXPress, Adobe InDesign, Dreamweaver; I have edited some of the toughest texts on earth, namely, Indian legalese; and I respect the sanctity of a deadline. This is a unique combination.

I have had happy clients till date and their feedback has made up for the lack of a security blanket. And I’m hoping I’ll never have to take up a job again. I’d like to rely on my skills and resources to grow independently, even if things take some time to shape up.

The dilemmas of American journalism, and my tiny role in it

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a few music articles for the Advocate Weeklies, part of an American newspaper group. It was interesting to interview the musicians and the money was good. And what the heck, I got bylines.

I learned this week that this was sort of an outsourcing experiment. Here's their explanation for why they outsourced their issue.

And here are my articles:

Licking it clean (Interview with Cake)

Living up to The Dead. (Interview with Dark Star Orchestra)

A lot of people, Indians and Americans, are upset with the New Haven Advocate staff for this experiment and the debate is getting nastier on their site.

I presented my views to Peter Applebome of the New York Times in an email interview. Read the story here: Made in India, but published in New Haven

Read below selected parts of the email interview:

PA: First, as someone who loves writing on music, I really liked both your pieces. I'd hate to see what would happen if American journalists tried to write for Indian publications on Indian culture. It certainly would not have been half as good as the work you all did.

Were you happy with the result and did you think it was displayed and handled properly?

Me: I agreed to do the stories on Cake and Dark Star Orchestra because it sounded interesting, and it was.

If the New Haven Advocate staff was trying to prove that local journalism cannot be outsourced, I'd say they're laboring the obvious. A city is best reported by people who live in it. Period.

That said, they did not mention the quality work some of us did. At least, I have the NHA editor's word on it.

Anyways, I wouldnt hold this outsourcing experiment against them. I somehow feel this is a defensive reaction against the pressures the NHA staff, and US journalists in general, must be feeling in these hard times.


PA: I think they thought of it as an aesthetic experiment -- how would this work out? -- and, for the most part, the work was interesting and good.

Me: If this was a purely aesthetic experiment, why do they talk of losing jobs? Why do they quote the local theater employee saying, "Outsourcing stories to reporters living abroad is only hurting our wonderful local reporters, who desperately need the work right now."

Are they trying to use the aesthetic point to serve a personal purpose, that is, to hold on to their jobs?


PA: Were you told of the idea of the Outsourced Issue concept and what did you think of it? Did you think it was appropriate, harmless or in any way demeaning?

Me: No, I wasn’t told of the concept. Not telling me was harmless, I’d say. But, I’ll repeat, in not acknowledging the quality work some of us did and in implying that it couldn’t match up to theirs, they’ve been unfair. They say, “We hope this issue will provide insight as well as a strong note of caution.” Caution against what? Losing local flavor, or not matching up to American journalism standards? They’re not clear on that.

Also, this issue cannot be a benchmark on Indian journalism because among the contributors, there are very few journalists. I, for one, am a trained journalist.

PA: Do Indian journalists have the same level of fear about the future of journalism as Americans do?

Me: Well, we don’t have the same fears, that is, I don’t think any Indian journalist thinks her job can be outsourced. India is too intricate for that.
The media industry had been booming in India till the slowdown happened. So, am not sure we have the same level of fears.

PA: What advice would you have for American journalists and media executives afraid of seeing jobs continue to wither away? What should they be doing?

Me: Journalism cannot be outsourced. It is aesthetically and politically important that local journalists retain their jobs. Yes, American newspapers are going through tough times, but outsourcing is not the answer. And, unlike banks and car companies, newspapers cannot go to the government with a begging bowl for ethical reasons.

Will increasing their cover price help? I don’t know. There are no easy answers here.

PA: To be honest, I'm still trying to figure out what I think of this experiment. For the most part, it seems to me a pretty benign one -- you guys put out a really interesting issue, it's absurd to think you're going to take jobs from people in New Haven.

-- End of interview --

Others have been talking about the Advocate's outsourced issue, too:

So Here's What Happens When Alt-Weeklies Start Outsourcing Their Phoners With the Guy Who Plays Trumpet for Cake to India

Will Glide Outsource Hidden Track to India?

To vote, to vote! (But first to get my name on that List!!)

I want to tell my own little election story today, though it might already be somewhat late for that.

About a week or so ago, I put in an application to include my name in the electoral roll for the fourth time in about eight years. The last two attempts were in Kolkata, the first one was in Hubli.

This time we set out from the house, determined to get my name on the electoral roll, or well, perish trying. We may not have perished, but wilt we did (it was about 39 degrees C, and a woman died that day of heat stroke). We hunted down the right office and the right person – no mean task in a government of West Bengal office – and put in the application.

We had to go up and down four buildings (Shaw Wallace House at Bankshall Street, Jessop Building, a nameless one, and New Secretariat) over about five hours to achieve this. It was quite like a treasure hunt, a clue here and a hint there.

Our misery was because of the Great De-limitation that had made our constituency – Burtolla – non-existent. Though it made sense for us to be part of Manicktala, we weren’t. It turned out that we were now part of Jorasanko – where Mr Tagore’s house is situated. We didn’t know which constituency we were part of, and that was disconcerting. It was as if, electorally, we didn’t exist. Our identity was at stake now.

But we wouldn’t even have known we didn’t exist, if not for the last-minute check by the very helpful officer in charge of Manicktala constituency. We had almost submitted my application there, when he discovered that our street didn’t exist in his constituency. Ananda Babu helped us out here and told us we were in Jorasanko now.

In between these buildings somewhere, a group of leching government officers tried their best to make us give up. (They were a bit put off that they had to stop leching at me to talk to us.) They plainly told us roll revision was not on and we were trying in vain. But, fearless voter (Linc) and voter-to-be (me) as we were, we strode on.

It ended at the rather old New Secretariat building, Or, at least, that’s what we’d like to believe. Election day will tell.

Oh, and that’s not the end of it. It was still eating Linc that he couldn’t find his street in the Manicktala list, so he got on the net and made the bloomin discovery that our street didn’t exist even in Jorasanko. Well, actually, it did, but under a changed name.

Now, though he called and faxed about this mistake to the election office, and they said they would look into it (! – as they always do), our entire para (street) might just get disqualified from voting because our street doesn’t exist on their list. Aah, the suspense is eating me up.

No explanations will do for little Moshe. He will cry for his mother for a long time to come.

Heart goes out to him.

Scribbled between 102 and 103 degrees

I wrote this down in my diary on 25 October in the throes of typhoid. For your reading pleasure/misery:

I am ill and looks like will continue to be ill for some more time. I sleep almost all day and then wake up abruptly in the middle of the night, fully alert and nothing to do. So I gaze at Linc's calm, sleeping face, listening to his little breathing sounds.

After a very long time - I really cant remember when was the last time I slept non-stop for 6 days - I have some quality time to myself :( And I have been thinking ...

I have been thinking of:

a) how illness/disability can wipe you off from the public scene. Not that I am being wiped off. Nah, not yet. It just made me think - of people who have been pushed behind the scene, who have to be 'lugged' in and out of their homes once in so many months for something absolutely unavoidable like a visit to the doctor's. They might be in their teens, but there's no movies for them, no eating out, no flirting, in short, no life.
It is all the more harder on those who have known a 'normal' life until the crippling event happened. Yet, people with real hard cores crawl and limp back to where you can see them once in a while. I had interviewed one such person - Mahesh of Mobility India. He wasn't very bitter about what he had been through, and I remember wondering why not.

b) Sir. His typical reaction on hearing that I was sick would be, "Oh Viju! That's horrible! You must do this ... and you mustn't do this..."
Linc often catches me talking of him in the present tense. For me, he refuses to be relegated to the past. I get a feeling I will miss him throughout my life. Some people just don't have the right to die. At least not him.

c) all the bedtime stories my father told us. He has amazing story-telling powers, complete with sound and visual effects, making the whole thing very dramatic. He dug out stories from - where else - the Mahabharata and Ramayana. He never repeated stories unless we requested for it, but he absolutely refused requests for more than one story at a time.
I wonder what stories today's parents are telling their children. Is it the TV that puts them to sleep? I dont know... how many stories do you think you could tell your children, day after day?

Working from home... and loving it!

A few months ago, I began working on my own as an editor and writer. And I must say that I like the experience, with all its accompanying risks. I had never realized that there is such a market out there for good freelance writers and editors in India. After working in all kinds of companies – MNCs, newspapers, proprietary firms, start-ups – I thought I had seen it all.

But working from home has its own rules, which, if followed, will work well for you. A few things I learnt from my short stint as a freelance writer and editor are:
a. Discipline. There’s no one to watch over you, which is good and bad. It’s up to you to keep your mind on track all the time, without giving in to tempting distractions like watching TV or chatting/talking to family and friends during work hours.

b. Clarity. The terms of work should be very clear between you and your client. If something is not getting through over e-mail or chat, call your client and discuss it thoroughly. Unless you completely understand your role, do not commit to anything. And if the client says the details can be worked out later, insist on doing it before you take on the task.

c. Do not compromise. You should know what your rock bottom price is and, however hard the client bargains, do not go below this. At the end of the day, after all the hard work, you want to be satisfied with what you earned. Otherwise, what’s the point? You might as well take up a regular job.

d. Be fair to yourself and your client. There is only so much humanly possible. Keep this in mind when taking on new assignments.

e. Take time off. You might end up working all the time and sometimes it may be necessary. But take at least an hour off each day in which you do only what you love to do.

f. Smile. Yes, handling clients can be tough, but relax: at least you don't have a boss to manage. How many people can afford such luxury?

Working on your own can be dicey, as you never know if a client will come back or not. But good work is noticed, and what the heck? No job is secure unless you are employed with the Government of India, is it?

My whirlwind Goa trip

We didnt have too much time, but still had fun. It was also a historical moment for me, because I have lived just 4 hours away from Goa for most of my life, but never could be there. Some beach pics here.

Yippee!!

I won an award. I dont have any acceptance speech ready, but will say this: thank you Vinod. Felt good.

Now, I know am supposed to pass it on, but that will take some time. Please bear with me.

Today, I got in touch with two long-lost friends. It felt as good as a fresh breeze from the Ganga on a damp, sweaty day In Kolkata. It was also very hilarious remembering what we were then and fitting it into our present life scenarios. One friend asked me if I still participated in debate competitions. I don’t know why but I almost fell off the chair laughing.

I thought of all of our lives. Our great little magnificent lives. And I thought of the things that we used to talk about – homework, boys in class, Shah Rukh Khan, periods and how evil they were... Aah, we talked a lot then. And sang and laughed like crazy.

I felt amused by the things my friends remembered about me - it was like looking at myself from the window of a time machine.

My friend said we couldn't keep in touch because of our changed priorities. Is that so, I thought. I'd give my right arm to talk away to glory to my friends on the terrace of my Hubli house. Have priorities changed? I don't know, I'd rather say we are too involved with our lives, any which way you look at it.

Few people have the presence of mind, the will, and the opportunity to step aside a moment and go after the thing they started out looking for. Praveen is such a person. He amazes me with the single-minded way in which he's trying to seek something that's close to his heart.

Whenever I think of him, I think of my life and what am doing with it. But then I realise that our lives cannot be compared. In fact, no one life can be compared to another, I'd say. Each to his or her own.

Coming up for air

Life‘s play after all.
There’ll be fury, there’ll be cry.
There’ll be laughter, too.
But what matters is
Standing up to the test.
Life will scare you, tickle you no end.
Something or someone will forever be out of reach.
What matters is
Smiling through it all
And loving through it all.
Coz life’s but your dog, and before you know,
He’ll be gone.

All of life ...
just a meeting and a parting.
Why meet when we must part?
Why part when we must meet?
But who am I to complain?
Nothing began,
hence, nothing ends.

Sir.

Linc said, “Considering your capacity to cry rivers and oceans, you didn’t cry much.” And I thought, yes. Linc, who is usually much stronger than me, was breaking down every now and then, and frequently had a lost look in his eyes. How was it possible that I wasn’t reacting similarly? What stopped my tears?

It is his voice in my ears. I hear it all the time. To me, he is ever-present: in each book I read, each comma, each apostrophe that I will ever use, each sentence that I write, and re-write, for I hear his voice in my head, “Be human, be clear.” Somehow, his absence is not as strong as his presence was.

I was changed from the first day I met Jyoti Sanyal at journalism school seven years ago. He overawed me by his passion for lucid writing and also his sweep of knowledge, but I never remember being terrorized by him, as so many others do. I saw through his sound and fury quickly for the compassionate man he really was. (I realized his anger was not directed at individuals, but at the obsolete way of writing that has entrenched itself in India. He set up Clear English India in Kolkata, where I still work, to fight the evils of legalese, officialese, circumlocution and the like that plague Indian writing.)

He was fired from that school by a maniac, but Linc and I kept visiting him every week at his place in Fraser Town. It was there over cups of coffee he made that I learnt my editing. I pasted newspaper clippings on to a sheet of paper and edited on the hard copy. He corrected them with his red-ink pen. I think I still have them somewhere, must look for them. With each visit, my horizons of knowledge expanded and my love for him grew.

Sometime during those meetings, our relationship graduated from teacher-pupil to father-daughter. What fun and joy-filled moments those were! Those raunchy jokes he cracked, the anecdotes he shared, those conversations rich in information…, everything is cherished. Going back home after each visit, I remember thinking that each conversation could be the subject of a book.

My writing bloomed under his watchful eyes. About a year after I met him, he told me he saw a maturity in my writing. I felt like I’d won the Pulitzer prize. Those people who have ever been complimented by him know the weight and sincerity of those compliments. Then, one day, he told me I was among his smartest students. I simply laughed it off. That was too huge a compliment for me to handle. But he kept looking into my eyes, and said, “Yes Viju, you are.”

Just a year ago when I did a series of stories on street children for an NGO, he asked me to send it to P Sainath and get it published as a book. These are landmark moments in my life.

When he gave these compliments, I had shaken my head incredulously. But now I know I have to believe in myself and cannot look for reinforcements. He believed in me, so shall I.

He lived a simple life, and though he was associated with a business in his last years, was never really money-minded. What he loved to do was to teach and make more people convert to plain language and practise it. I hope I shall be able to further his work here at Clear English India.

You don’t meet too many great people in one lifetime, and get to know them closely and then work for them. I can’t believe my luck sometimes.

I remember you, Sir, for everything you gave me.
Continue to be the voice in my head,
and hold my hand as I write each word.
Sit here beside me as you would,
with answers to all the questions I asked.
You would say these words are unnecessary,
and would have deleted them right away from this post,
But Sir, thank you.

Memories crowd my mind

A couple of months ago my cousins and I got together at my Dod Mava (eldest maternal uncle)'s house. It was such a rush of memory. We talked and talked of how:

we would sneak up to the 'bimblekai' (a very very sour berry which is green and oval-shaped) tree behind the house and grab handfuls of it. To make things better, salt would be stored in sacks in a sort of shed right beside the tree. So, there we sat in the afternoons, drooling, biting into bimblekai dipped in salt, squeezing up our faces because it was so sour, and thrilled because our teeth became sharp like daggers.

we just kept running. My grandfather's place is huge. There was one corridor through the middle of the house, both sides of which there would be rooms or halls (jagali). And then there was a parallel corridor on the other side of the house, which was used as a quasi-workplace and a quasi-dining hall during fesivals, etc. These two corridors were connected, of course, in the front and back. And whenever we got bored of all our games, we'd get this brilliant idea of running through the house along these corridors.

My brother, our two cousins and I... what a quartet! I was the youngest of the gang, and invariably, I would be the person to get caught by my grandfather. He sat on the wooden bench, a baanka as it is called. All he had to do was wait till I neared him and then put out his walking stick. He used the walking stick as a hook and pulled me backwards by the collar of my dress. He would release me after a pat on the head or a peck on the cheek, but it was agonising to see the others get ahead. Incidentally, this is the only memory I have of him. It is funny because I see my granpa and myself. Now, how can I see myself? Maybe my mind has built images of me as a kid from the pictures I have seen of a younger me.

We were always terrified a particular uncle who insisted that all of us sleep in the afternoon. How many mangoes remained uneaten and nooks in the areca estate unexplored because of these forced afternoon siestas. But things weren’t always bad. Many afternoons we got lucky: as soon as the uncle started snoring, we would slowly tiptoe across the upstairs hall and down the stairs. But here, too, I had problems. For one, the uncle was a light sleeper and the hall too big. And, I usually wore these horrible silver anklets, which wouldn’t come off that easily. So, you can imagine. One tinkle of the anklet and there booms Uncle, “You, get back here!” Everyone else would be ordered back, too. Their glares would then make me more miserable than the siesta.

But then, the human mind innovates: I’d bend down, hold each anklet up and make my getaway.

Hide-and-seek was the best game you could play in these old houses. Many corners of the house or even parts of the corridor would never be touched by sunlight, and we had enacted a law that you couldn’t put on the light. One had to feel his/her way through the cool darkness if one wished to catch someone there. The ‘hidee’ meanwhile had a merry time because he/she could see but not be seen.

I could go on... of how once my cousins and brother ganged up to give me sherbet spiked with tobacco, of our innovative kitchen at the ‘maala’ (open space where areca was dried) and even more innovative dishes (read imaginary or dished cooked with mud and stones) we served up, of our unsupervised dips in the river and mind-blowing hikes up random hillocks ... I really could go on. And this is just one part of the story, that is, these were our adventures at our maternal grandpa’s place. We had an equally great time at our paternal granpa’s place.

Hmm, silly nostalgic me.