Schadenfraude

Guest Post by Piper, the toffee colored Dacshund

Address : The Phoenix House

N.C.R., India

 

 

 

 

 

Yes that is me, with MY LITTLE MOM, as opposed to the old woman who does not allow me to kiss her face, The Big Fat Momma, and the other dude’s  my foster brother Baron. 

We’re named after airplanes since Kid#1 is airplane crazy.

So let’s get back to it.  We are all Germans, I am a Dacshund and my foster siblings are German Shephards.  We are classy like that …

Schadenfraude is a German word which means finding humor in other people’s misfortune.  I find the term extremely ironic considering its the British who are experts at leg pulling, not the Germans, but that was not the subject of this blog post.

A current example of schadenfraude is the news item I heard the old batshit lady, The Big Fat Momma read out aloud today about a $15K home horror flick that made $60m, freaking the shit out of guys in Hollywood!  They got their trick or treat alright.  The rest of us, specially Bigger Mom got Schadenfraude!  She laughed her head off!  Yeah, if she was not human I’d have called her a fat cat!  Spiteful she is …..

Now I am a handsome dacshund, not a baby but I love Little Mom and let her carry me around – I am generous like that. 

I even allow my younger foster brother, the hulk you see in the picture above  eat my food … after I am done with it.  What did you think? I am no pushover, we Germans have a reputation to maintain.

He is my schadenfraude

When he came he was like this.  Yeah that was last Christmas ….

 

Yeah, I bullied him mercilessly ……….

Now he freaks me out, the hulk !!!

But I dont let him know that and growl at him every time I can and the fat batshit lady isnt around …….

He does not know his size yet.  When he does, he will realize he got bullied by the tiny me

Hyuck Hyuck

He’ll need some expensive therapy then ….

So I’ll be generous and let him eat my left overs now

So Long!!!!!

Once upon a Time ……

There was this young girl, skinny as hell, walking around with a permanent cold (sickly actually), an introvert who preferred reading books to interacting with boys who tried to feel up more endowed girls other social creatures.

The girl then discovered food, and started getting comfortable with food and herself ….

and more comfortable …….

And more comfortable

And now the girl has morphed into me …..  It first started with a bit of a bulge, which I dismissed as aftermath of second pregnancy

Then thighs started thickening, so I switched over to salwar kameezes while battling for a divorce, thinking it was stress and would go away ……

And then I hated the idea of started to get into the huff and puff mode!  I mean who needs that in a full day of work, meals, kids homeworks, shopping for groceries and battling lawyers, mother and all that life effin throws up.

Then came son’s wedding and two major surgeries in two years! 

By that time I had got blase’.  I convinced myself that my self worth was not based on my waist size, and since I had managed to remain reasonably healthy, no diabetes, blood pressure and ticker going strong, it did not matter.  I was not here competing with Priyanka Chopra’s figure hai na?  Besides a slim svelte figure is such a superficial thing ……..  I am more cerebral

It all fizzled out when I spent a sleepless night battling acidity and saw myself in the bathroom mirror next morning.  I looked like Bellatrix Lestrange on a bad day ballooned into a watermelon

 

NASTY!!!!

But that did not phase me out.  What did was the sleepless night!  Told ya, I am wayy more cerebral than your average person who values good looks and health      

So ladies and gentlemen I have started cooking healthy, feeding my family more innovative and light meals. 

I have also started trying to run – it converts into a trot – pant – groan – pant – walk as of now.  Never mind WE SHALL OVERCOME

…………………………………………………………………………… ………….SOME DAY

DIL tells me that I should bow in front of her, since it is she who pointed out how unhealthy my cooking was.  Madam, here you are, this is all the bow you shall get BOW WOW!

Kid #2 has started looking slim, instead of Laddu from Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gam.  I foresee a bevy of hotties around him in a short while

As far as I am concerned, well I am much too old a sinner for fat cells to give up easily.  They cling, and rebel even though I am huffin and puffin and the friction of my thighs against each other could start a bonfire.

I may not climb the Everest or date a Sherpa …..

I may not win the Olympic Medal and kiss Obama while he gives it to me …… sigh! drool!!!

But dammit, I do get a night’s undisturbed sleep

That is reward enough!

Happy Diwali all

A big HAPPY DIWALI from the Phoenix Home

Wont post the pic of the “AFTER DIWALI BASH”

Some pics of the much maligned candles and toran from the Phoenix House

DIL WAITING FOR THE MOON ON KARVA CHOUTH

The Classic Diwali Syndrome

(I think this describes the situation in most households around Diwali/Pooja/Christmas etc. ….)

Early morning Lady of the House picks up the newspaper, discards everything apart from the pages advertising Sales, Schemes etc etc and either gets on the phone with her friends or starts planning the route to be taken with her sister/daughter etc.

Man of the house comes into the room, blearily picks up the remainder of the newspaper and his tea and tries to join in the conversation ….

M.O.H. : So what are you planning to buy today?

L.O.H. : Just some diwali things, you know, candles and toran …

M.O.H. : (Trying to be helpful) I’ll ring up Rakesh Seth and he will send them over

L.O.H. : Looking balefully : Naah, I promised (insert saheli’s name) that we would go together.

M.O.H. : Oh I see

L.O.H. : In a tone as sweet as honey : You dont mind do you? I packed your lunch, and we will order something in the night if I am late

M.O.H. : Knowing not to open his mouth to wonder why candles and toran will take the whole day : Its okay dear ……

Its the time women rule. We shop, we bargain, we hunt for deals, and fall prey to all the buy this and get that cheaper schemes

I’ve also noticed one thing …

If we live in North Delhi – we want stuff from South Delhi or Noida or Gurgaon

Somehow the malls and the deals on the other side of town seem so much more alluring.

I love to shop at Gurgaon or Delhi – I think the petrol I burn adds to the fun of shopping

Noida will do too – but definite not my town

Even though in these days of Malls, everything is available in each and every mall, all the brands, all the schemes.

Dont ask a female to explain. It is just the way it is

Then we come back home laden with goods. We go with lists of course, and come back with everything not on the dratted list.

In the evening the men of the house dutifully help us unload the packages from the car, while we come home happy and tired after blowing up far more money than we ought to, happy to share all the details of the fantastic deals and the money we saved on our spree

M.O.H. : Oh did you get the candles and toran

W.O.H. : (Without batting an eyelid!) Naaah, we’re going for that tommorow ….

HAPPY DIWALI

English Literature in Indian context

I always wondered how root beer tasted and what pot roast was when I read Enid Blyton as a kid ….

I also wondered how people could live in the countryside and have electricity, functioning shops and their kids could take pangas with local cops like Mr. Goon …. cant imagine this in the Indian context.

I could not imagine kids running some sort of secret society without mothers butting in and effin the hell out of this bid for independance ….

My friend, a writer called Dr. Jayshri Kannan has put it wonderfully, in a speech she delivered at the British Council recently.  I had to put it on my blog, hope you dont mind Jay …

Studying English literature in an Indian context

I have not written anything populist for a long time. But why talk to a congregation of Educators about Education? So I make an exception here. Hmmm do I hear sighs of relief? I too need to do something different fellow educators.

I grew up studying British and American children’s books at the Delhi Pubic Library. The characters had names like Tom, Elizabeth, Lucy and John. They drank ginger beer, they ate sandwiches and cakes, their hair was golden and eyes blue.

I pursued my studies in Literature at the University. I studied more of Tom’s , Elizabeth’s, Lucy’s and John’s who drank more ginger beer or root beer now( what they tasted like, I had no clue but beer the forbidden word in usage was exciting enough), ate more sandwiches and cakes, and had shiny golden hair and transparent blue eyes.

It never occurred to me that people like me who were breaking norms and paving some life in their own terms in India could also be part of literature. Stereotypes were carved in my mind.

But Indian writing got bolder. No one cared about the – oh – so Englishie – English. They wrote about life around them. Sopna, Seema, Rajneesh and Asano who ate mishti Dohi, idli, parathas or rice and had black eyes and black hair. These I recognized. Thus began my gradual mental shift.

The American and British books I read were wonderful. They opened up a new world for me. A world that was so fascinating! But they had inadvertently told me that the real people around me couldn’t be a part of this literature.

I come from a conservative middle class background. We went to visit our Grandparents in the countryside during school vacations. During these vacations we visited many families. We were told they were poor people and we were clearly told not to flaunt our urban ways in front of them. But these so- called poor people offered us milk in huge jugs and lived in lush green farms!

I am equally guilty of forming stereotypes in my mind’s eye. It had not occurred to me what was luxury in the city was of common use in the countryside. It had become impossible for me to think beyond my visions of poverty. I went to them with a well meaning, patronizing pity. I had felt sorry for them even before I met them. I had a stereotyped image of the poor.

I am guilty more than once, guilty and ashamed when my microscopic vision comes alive! When my husband got posted to a place in the north eastern part of India, I began touring these places. I had an impression that the people there were drug addicts and irresponsible drunkards. On my first day in the North East (I mean Nagaland in particular), I saw people laughing, meeting each other, shopping , just the way we lived in other parts of the country. Initially I was a bit surprised and then I was overwhelmed with shame. I realized I had been bought over by the images commonly created, images that showed people as one thing over and over again. I came with the sure shot faith that there was no possible connection with them as human equals and returned home with some, who I can say are my best friends now.

I must quickly add that I too have been judged by stereotypes. In North India, Madrasis are supposed to be Intelligent and good in Maths. Unfortunately to the disappointment of my North Indian friends I regularly failed in Maths and sported a skewed look which far from showcased me as intelligent. To the culturally conscious South Indian I was generally a creature from outer space. They couldn’t strip off the popular images and connect with me as a human mind.

When the North Indian looked for South Indian sensibilities in me I wondered:

What if they knew of my journalist friend Arun in Chennai who dares to live with the Dalits?

What if they knew of my friend Lakshmy who tried every progressive method possible, to gain some recognition within her household?

What if they saw meaningful South Indian cinema and the not so meaningful cinema working in their own innovative ways?

What if they knew of my dear poet friend Kanimozhi, who dares to question establishment besides being a part of the political set up?

What if they knew of all my friends staying in south India who pray together and open champagnes together-despite the fact that alcohol is an unutterable word among Indian Hindus and Muslims?

What if they knew of the caste, creed and religious barriers writers like Vairamuthu break just to be honest?

What if they knew of Kuttirevathi, Sukirtharani and Malathy Maitri talking of sex in the same breath as food attempting to expand the subversive creative spaces available to women writers?

Because

For every journalist like Arun in the south there is a Peter Hodge in Australia or a Deepak Bharti.

For every Vairamuthu in Kollywood there is a Javed Saab in Bollywood

For every Kanimozhi there is a Medha patkar who vociferously fights the establishment

Didn’t they know of children tolerating and paving his path despite poor academic support everywhere?

Didn’t they know everywhere they remixed Bob Marley, Abba and Gun and Roses to popular taste?

Didn’t they know both places had committed NGO’s resiliently working for a cause?

Didn’t both poles of the country have those bunches of kids who loved pizzazz, pastas, sushi, as much as they loved their home cuisine?

I often wondered if my south Indian community would accept me more easily:

if there had been a television network in each of the Indian villages to telecast its ever changing ruralism?

OR if they knew about my beautician’s cleaner who collects the hair cut in the Salon and runs a booming business of hair extensions?

OR if they knew of that Business man in Delhi who fights every hurdle created by the political structure – sometimes have failed but managed to rise and remain afloat despite odds?

All of them are real India. And yet no one single image is India.

Stereotypes never tell these stories. Stereotypes are not always untrue but surely they are incomplete perceptions. They emphasize differences and not similarities.

I never thought of myself as an Indian or a south Indian or a north Indian till someone pointed it out to me

I conduct writing workshops every summer and am always surprised at how many people are keen on attending them. The only thing I make sure is they take back with them the ability to break and question stereotypes. Start the story of Environmental degradation with an I, you have an evolving view point; start the story of corruption with your experience you will have a more humane writing evolve.

I was charmed and touched to the point of tears when one old lady recognized me as the Jayshri Kannan ,the author of her daughter’s English Text.She took me aside and said ,” M’aam you are very daring. You must write more such books. But I don’t like the fact that you write only one book a year. Write more and write about this. .” She gave a me along curriculum plan! I was really charmed. This old lady not only had read my book; she also took ownership of my next book! This is was a North Indian old women .North Indians are said to be less inclined to reading.

One of the stereotypes is that India is a land of two races – the lighter- skinned Aryans and the darker-skinned Dravidians -

David Frawley in his impartially written essay on Aryan Dravidian divide says:’ The British ruled India, as they did other lands, by a divide-and-conquer strategy. They promoted religious, ethnic and cultural divisions among their colonies to keep them under control. Unfortunately some of these policies also entered into the intellectual realm. The same simplistic and divisive ideas that were used for interpreting the culture and history of India. Regrettably many Hindus have come to believe these ideas, even though a deeper examination reveals they may have no real objective or scientific basis

This stereotyped image of India I think comes from western Literature. Mark Twain in one of his famous speeches says:

In religion, India is the only millionaire – the One land that all men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for all the shows of all the rest of the globe combined Mark Twain quotes American Humorist, Writer and Lecturer. 1835-1910.

So power plays a major role in creating these stereotypes. How powerfully is it said? By whom? What is the economic and social power of their countries? How many times is it said? All this matters. Yes Power matters.

Things said in the colonial rule, Indian writers took years to demystify.

My American student recently told me, my ways were not authentically Indian. I am willing to contend that I had failed many a times and agree I have a number of oddities but the fact is I didn’t know who an authentic Indian was?

I was so much like my friends all over the world .I wasn’t starving, I questioned and I did not worship sadhus .I didn’t fit the single story .They had stereotypes drawn out. India to them was one entity, a land of sadhus, poverty and prejudiced citizens, beautiful landscapes, incomprehensible people, people unable to speak for themselves- waiting for a kind white person to save them from impending disaster.

But I never had such preconceived notions about America. Not because I am in anyway superior to my student but because a variety of American writing was at my disposal. I had read Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Hawthorne, Walt Whitman, Melville, Hemingway, Saul Bellow and Toni Morison. I didn’t have one stereotyped image of America.

If I too hadn’t grown up in India I too would see India as is seen through popular ideas. These images alienate continents, alienate cultures. To those who read that, “one single story” and form opinions about countries and people, there is no possibility of other people, being similar to themselves in anyway. I borrow the term ONE SINGLE STORY from Chimamanda Adiche, a Nigerian storyteller who in her extremely well articulated talk on the danger of a single story says,”how impressionable and vulnerable we are in the face of a story particularly as children,”

I would like to conclude with her punch line, “when we realize that there never was a single story about any place, we regain a paradise.”

Karva Chowth at Phoenix House

I am very ambivalent about karva chowth and I wrote a post last year stating my reasons which readers found hilarious.  Well I am like that anyways ….

My kids want to celebrate each and every festival with gusto, even the all female ones like karva chowth. I would doll up, do the mehendi, new dress and bangles and trinkets thingy, and then we would eat drink and be merry.  Now I have happily handed over baton to DIL

I’ve told DIL she has the option to do away with the fast if she wishes. Its cool with us …

Flashback two days ago ………………………..

Kid#2 : Mom are you gonna get mehendi and stuff done?

Me : Reclining on my bed with laptop : Nah, I have done away with peripherals

Kid#2 : Why????

Me ; Astonished at such a strong reaction : I never keep the fast anyway, and am not in the mood for dolling up

Kid#2 : Launching full blown drama : You never do anything, you are not fun anymore, festivals dont feel like festivals when Bhai isnt around ………………….

Me : ??????!!!!!!!???????

Then Godji sent inspiration (Thank you Godji Phewww!)

Me : Beta Bhabhi will do all that, its her time

DIL came home dancing : See my new suit that I bought for Karva Chowth! Isnt it pretty? Kid#2 you better be home on Karva Chowth eve since you gotta take me to get mehendi done

Kid#2 : Looking much happier : Jee Bhabhi, do you also want to go to the parlour? I am so glad someone is celebrating! (The last said snidely)

DIL : After consideration : Nah parlour will be too full, besides I’ll be working full day

Me : Heaving a quiet sigh of relief : Beta, tell me what you wanna eat for sargi, I’ll cook that.

Both of them seriously discussing possible options for the early morning sargi

I never knew handing over all the stuff was so liberating!!!!

She can do the mehendi and dress and fast if she so desires!

I AM OUT OF IT!!!!

 

We had sargi together at 5 a.m. which I cooked early in the morning.  Kid#2’s craving for some festival celebration got satisfied, DIL and I left for work!  I think I narrowly escaped the dog house!!!

Moonlings are petrified

(Thanks Taposh!)

Moonlings are petrified

 

Top Moon officials are running scared,

The President of the planet Moon

Called a High Alert meeting at noon

To tell the cabinet members “Beware”

 

These aliens are singing a dangerous tune

Once they called sweethearts fair as moon

Then they said they landed a man on our dune

But these Indians will now send a huge platoon

 

Of farmers, engineers, scientists and IT experts,

Of netas and godmen, tantrics and astrologers

Since ISRO, that nasty meddling egoistic brood

Found moon-water, and now wants to grow food

 

These aliens have a horrible track record

They messed their rivers, land they scarred

They killed their trees, air they soured

They’ll tear our tiny wee planet apart!

 

One cabinet minister, she was un-moonly

Was deep in thought as she interjected

Your Moon-ness, I think its way too early

To get alarmed, scared or feel dejected

 

Earthlings have in common one salient trait

They don’t take chances, love to delegate

Netas will not risk their precious lives

Without taking their godmen’s advise

 

Since all of their prominent astrological charts

With the reference of the moon’s position starts

Until they find another planet, and build their theory

Farming on the moon will just remain a likely story