Integrating things

A friend asked me how I got the Little One to sing songs and pronounce them accurately.

It was possible only by breaking it to word level, sometimes to sub word level and then putting it all together one sentence at a time.

All complex things can be broken down to simpler items.

The ability to make something complex out of simple things and the ability to understand and troubleshoot a complex entity/problem by breaking it to simpler parts is a skill set you develop (or have to develop) if you have kids.

When dealing with scientific things or logical things, it purely is an exercise in

a. right questioning and answering
b. data driven decision making
c. nomenclature or terminology used to explain things

Then you end up with things neither scientific nor logical with an audience that is very challenging (say the little one and Jr.) and all your experience as a student, teacher, integration dude, etc. is not enough!

We are talking now about the heaven phone (which was misquoted by Jr. as the Hanuman phone) that is used to call "Kollu thatha"(great grandpa) who is no longer with us.

Unable to handle the situation myself at that time of his death, I made the mistake of telling the little one that the only way to talk to Thatha now is to call him on the "heaven" phone and it is very expensive to even reach the phone which is somewhere on top of the Himalaya mountains and even after we reach the phone, there is a very long line of kids waiting to call their Thatha's and Paati's and it is also very expensive to make that call because longer the distance you call, more expensive it gets.

The little one promptly cut through my logic with many razor sharp questions like "if it is that far away and thatha already wears thick glasses, how can he be watching us? how will he know how to help us if we pray to him in times of trouble like you told us to do?" etc. etc.

Based on the experience of creating a bunch of statements in trying to bridge the gap between what is known and what is unknown, and trying to explain things to the little one, a small book can be published on the "do's and dont's" in communicating with children under the age of 5 on the topic of death, afterlife, etc.

The best line from her was "so now that thatha is in the ocean, he will come out when we go to the beach? It is all the same ocean right?"

Got visions of my Thatha's dissolving bone fragments in the Bay of Bengal, then reassembling the fragments and him reappearing in Half moon bay and walking out of the ocean, Terminator style!

It is hilarious and sad at the same time to see how Jr. corrects the little one with her knowledge of heaven.

Don't have the guts to break things in a harsh way to the kids. Who am I to decide if heaven is a bad place or not, what amenities are available, if you can still read without your glasses and walk without your walking stick etc. etc.

Since no one who has actually made it to heaven is going to writing us any books, maybe, I will write that book someday! Of course it will be all made up..



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Cheer up Grandmas!

Dear Paati and Kollu Paati,

Please listen to this. We know you will like it.




Now listen to "our" singing of the same song and

1. cheer yourself up
2. tell us how we did...




Lots of Love

Jr. and the Little One

ps. If you are not our paati or Kollu paati, you can still tell us how we did. Both of us now read the comments on this blog, you know!




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Happy Thanksgiving

From the Indian American American Indian.. aka Little One who came home like this..




and Jr. who was thoroughly amused by the little one's dressing up in a pasta necklace and brown paper feathers.




The kids are going to give Kollu Paati a cheer up present tomorrow. Tomorrow promises to be an interesting day already!




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Where's your Jimik ?

LO: Do you love your Jimik?

Me: !!!!????

LO: The new van you have! The Jimik!

Me: Why do you call the van a Jimik?

LO: Drags me to the van and shows me.. "See, it says Jimik here!"




We all had a good laugh. Then told her it is GMC and not Jimic.

We returned the rental back today and got back our own van all fixed and washed and looking nice again. I did not like the Jimik because it was too big, too dark (all black inside) and the buttons were too difficult to figure out. The little one started protesting when we had to return the van. Apparently she loved the Jimik!

Now that the old van is back, she told me "Actually, I like our van better. It is nice!"

Familiarity for once, has ruled!

There is also a sense of things getting back to normal with the return of the van. We will hopefully get a nice rest over the long weekend and recharge.



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Happy 29-n-th birthday

Wishing Sangeetha a happy twentyninenth birthday!

The love of my life, who does a diving catch time and time again, to save this idiot from self destruction.

We are still getting over Thatha and the birthday plans are all canceled, but Surprise!







You didn't know I had these pictures of you, did you?

For my part, I will stop depressing the kids. For their part, they will surprise you by eating their breakfast on time (they have promised)

Happy birthday,

Your dear hormonal hubby!



ps. These photos were taken 29+ years ago..
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All it takes

Have cried now, thanks to my mom who spent a good hour on the phone with me after reading my post (after the kids had gone to bed).

Incidentally, the video in the previous post was in the making since the 14th. My grandpa has been appearing in my dreams and thoughts since the day before my "MP3 post" on the 4th of November. Had started listening to that tape (after a gap of 2+ years) and realized it was going bad. Then figured out that using the old Walkman and some freeware (like A-Kay said) it was possible to digitize the tape.

Spent days converting that tape and canceling noise to get the audio cleaned up. Sent an email to my brother and cousin on the 14th that "Appa's voice" is now in MP3! My cousin suggested that I upload it somewhere. Having no experience in uploading to audio share sites, but having plenty of experience on Youtube, decided to have that audio as a soundtrack and put pictures of the entire family to go with the audio like a slide show.

Never realized that it would become a "In memory of" video.

I am reasonably sure that it is not a coincidence that my grandpa appears in my dreams multiple times in a span of 10 days, two weeks before his death.

Seriously, what are the odds of me vividly remembering my dreams (to the point that they feel real), what are the odds of having two such dreams and the odds of starting to make that video a week before?

Cannot think of this as coincidence. They tell you that sometimes thought and feelings can cross physical boundaries.

Told this to some of my colleagues and they thought I was going Cuckoo! The good thing is at least my mother did not think that I was going Cuckoo..

Maybe it is because "Cuckookum tan kunju pon kunju?" (see I am back to my old self already!)

The kids had a debate earlier today on what color "Thatha Angel's" wings were. The little one claims it is white like a butterfly and Jr. claims he has glass wings. To each his/her own. I cannot imagine him as the flying type.

If Appa wanted to do something in heaven, I can imagine him sitting on a mountain of folded Vethalai (betel leaves), with his silvery seeval and pugai-ilai(tobacco) box, chewing away till the cows hung their head in shame and realized that they were better off learning from the Chew master than coming home. It was not easy for him to quit chewing tobacco when he had his first heart attack almost 20 years ago, but he did it.

He also gets to hear GNB live in heaven, something which we cannot do. No more falling down often and going for stitches, no more tubes up his nose and mouth, no more having two people help him go to the bathroom, no more sleeping on rubber sheets like a baby.

As my mother put it after my crying spree, time to move on and be happy for him.

Maybe his wings are made of glass like the kid says?!

All it takes is the right person to say the right thing and this mind does wonderful things.

Tomorrow is going to be "make the wife and kids happy again day" at our house.



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Tears when you need them

Have been on the phone with relatives and friends for the last 24 hours. For some strange reason, have not been able to cry.

It is like this great body of tears has all welled up somewhere and there is something that is stopping the dam from bursting out. San has cried and gotten better, Jr. who heard grandma cry over the phone, cried in turn, threw up by psyching herself and the little one did her thing as well.

For some strange reason, tears evade me. There is a lot of guilt, for making my bed here in the USA, a far away land, knowing that it would not be possible to go make it to India in times like these, within a time frame that would make any sense.

There is a rich culture and an elaborate grieving process that actually helps the people left behind, of which I am not a part of, right now. That with the guilt for having no one else to blame for this situation but myself, is not helping.

So, in an attempt to justify my internal logic, I am living in some kind of delusional world where on the one hand the death of the grandfather who epitomizes the word "love" for me is conflicting with thoughts like "I could have been living in Bombay instead of California and there could be a flood there or an airline strike there and it would be the same situation..." etc. etc.

The hamster inside the head is running at 400 GHz, quite aimlessly for it knows not how to get all those well intentioned emotions out.

My mom called me and broke down today over the phone. Somehow, news reached her that I was in an accident on thursday morning and escaped near death. As a family have had more reasons to be together than ever before, this year.

We for our part did not tell her about the accident because we did not want them to worry. They for their part did not want to tell us that Grandpa was admitted to the hospital and was in critical condition, because they didn't want us to worry. When I told my mom that maybe if she had given me a hint two days earlier, there would have been a plane ticket, she told me she knew about my accident and how I did not tell her. That sealed my lips.

Now we have sealed tear ducts and sealed lips. My school teacher mom promptly reminded me of

Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

(a poem that is not easily forgotten)

Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee--
Like summer tempest came her tears--
'Sweet my child, I live for thee.'

Somehow, someone needs to slap me or say or do something that will get all this stuff inside to come out.

Maybe it is fear of losing my composure in front of Jr. and the little one that is making me do this?, don't know.

Till that happens, going to walk around with a blank stare.

God knows I miss him. Thought putting this in words might help. Still doesn't.



ps. We were at Tamizh school this morning and as I waited in the car for San to drop off Jr. in class and be back, saw a grandpa carrying a little on on his hips and hold his version of Jr. by the other hand and it reminded me of my grandpa doing the same thing with me and my brother. Almost started crying and San came back with the Little one and I stopped. Sure that emotional dam will burst. Just hoping it is sooner than later!

The little one is truly blessed. She can cry on demand and get tears instantaneously for no reason.


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My Dearest Appayithathayi

Earlier today there was a phone call from India. We were having an afternoon nap. Without realizing that it was day and looking at the clock and seeing 1:30, I told my mom, "isn't it too early to call me for a birthday wish. how many times do I tell you to note time difference before waking me up too early? Call me later" and my mother goes "have bad news for you, and by the way, it is afternoon for you and it is 3 AM for me! Appa is not with us anymore".

My grandfather, who I call "Appa" (daddy) because I saw my mom and all her siblings call him Appa, named me Sundararaman because he was reading "Sundara Kaandam" from Ramayana the previous week. The name implies, Rama who belongs to Sundara (also known as Hanuman or Anjaneya). A pious man who always put family first, there are so many words that rush to my mind.

My grandpa has filled our lives with happiness, tried his best to teach us how to enjoy and appreciate life, handle difficult situations and has been a role model to all his kids and grand kids (which we will pass on to his great grand kids) on how to appreciate people, god, music, and culture.

More than anything, he taught every one how to love, cherish and appreciate one's spouse. In April, when I went to visit him (last time we met), was talking to a local auto rickshaw driver near Hotel Carnival..

Me: Adayar Sri Krishna Sweets ponum pa, variya? (have to go to Adayar, will you come?)

Driver : Jodi Thatha peran dhane nee? (you are "Jodi" grandpa's grandson right?)

Me : !!!

Driver : Unga thatha mudiyudho mudiyaliyo, patti kayya pudichu enga ponalum ezhuthukitte povaru, adhanaala naanga Jodi thathannu solluvom! (your grandpa holds on to your grandmas hand and takes her with him everywhere, irrespective of wheather she can or cannot walk. So we nicknamed him "Jodi" thatha .. which means "partner" by the way!).

He lived a full life. My paati, their 6 children and families which include 11 grand children and 5 great-grand children will all miss him and will definitely celebrate his life.

It feels sad that out of all those people, I am the only one who will not be there and have to go through a grieving process remotely. It is times like these that we need to have Star Trek like Transporters made available sooner. While the rest of them are all gathered in one place as I type this to cremate him, have put together a tribute to him on youtube.

Here is to my Dear Thatha...




We love you!



ps. this is a collection of photos and videos from what was available here. the sound in the background is his reciting Ramayana in 1993 for me. He gave me that tape so I could listen to him whenever I missed him!



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The bottom drops to an all time low...

Today when I picked up Jr. from school, she had a certificate.

It said something to the effect of "Congratulations on your birthday, etc. etc." and looked like a formal certificate with lots of colors on it!

Jr. said "are you proud of me, I earned that certificate"

Me: What do you mean "you earned it". You just had another birthday. You didn't work for it!

Jr. : Lived to be a year older, didn't I? (and makes a "duh" face, if you know what I mean)

Me : you lived to be a year older because your mom and me are still spoon feeding you, your breakfast and dinner and stuffing your leftover lunch in your mouth in the evening. If anything we should get the certificate.

Jr. : You are not fair. You are saying that because I got a certificate and I really earned it.

Me : !!!!!!!!!!!

Can understand people in gang infested neighborhoods feeling a sense of achievement for having lived longer and survived. But why would a seven year old living in a nice house with parents who spend 30 minutes a day with morning cereal and going to a nice school feel she earned a "birthday" certificate?

Beats me!



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